


Damage Control

by PaigeTurner



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Aphrodisiacs, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Avengers Tower, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BDSM, Bloodplay, Come Shot, Discussion of Abortion, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Miscarriage, Natasha Romanov's Arrow Necklace, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, PWP, Past Underage, Protective Phil Coulson, Rape, Reverse slow build, Stillbirth, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Wedding Planning, Whipping, dislocations, erotic asphyxiation, pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 37
Words: 71,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTurner/pseuds/PaigeTurner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two people get tired of being alone, they turn to each other. "No strings attached" sex slowly develops strings, as is wont to happen. Set to bookend CAtWS. AU with Clint/Phil as an established couple.</p><p>This is not what I set out to write!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury is drugged and things get a little out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag for: Non-consensual drug use, non-consensual kissing, masturbation

Sometimes, Fury wanted to be wrong. Coulson had thought using Romanov as his security detail was overkill. As the edges of the room lost focus and his head began to spin, Fury knew that once again, he’d been right and that Phil had underestimated the situation. Romanov was exactly what Fury had hoped for: calm, cool and collected. She tossed his arm over her shoulders just seconds before his balance went.

“Little too much to drink.” She laughed to a passerby as she moved him towards the door. He felt as though the floor was shifting angles at every step, first inclined, then declined, then sloping sharply left. He stumbled, tripping over Natasha’s leg, and slurred an apology.

Sharp-eyed, she saw the enemy moving in to kill him or to capture him; it didn’t matter. “Sit.”

When she slipped out of his grasp, he couldn’t help but obey. He could feel whatever they had drugged him with tugging at the edges of his mind. Something to get him confused and compliant.

“Drugged,” Fury mumbled.

“Mm-hmm.” Natasha responded noncommittally as she took out the assailants with her usual grace and poise. “There’s more coming; we have to move,” she said urgently, kneeling to help him back to his unsteady feet. She wasn't strong enough to outright carry him, but she bore the brunt of his weight, all while wearing heels, as she guided them to the car.

Natasha helped herself to Fury’s keys, tucked into his jacket pocket. She unlocked the doors and eased him onto the passenger seat.

“Nobody drives my car but me,” Fury objected weakly.

“You really think you can drive, sir?” Natasha crooked her eyebrow at him as she got behind the wheel. “Try not to puke.”

She lost whoever was after them, of course. She was kicking herself for not finding out who they were, but she’d lost them nonetheless. She was on a security detail, and that meant prioritizing Fury’s safety. She parked outside his apartment building and got out to open his door. Fury hadn't puked, but he was still acting like a drunk.

 “You lost them?” he mumbled, looking up at Natasha.

 “Nah, I thought it’d be fun to lead the bad guys to your sanctum.” She rolled her eyes.

 “Sanctum?” Fury scoffed. “Baby, this is just a place to crash.”

 He pushed himself out of the vehicle, grasping the top of the door opening to steady himself. He lurched and pivoted, nearly twisting his ankle and she quickly stepped in to catch him. Her arms hooked under his and her back hit the rear door of the car as his weight crashed into her. He propped his arms on either side of her, trapping her against the vehicle.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice suddenly husky. There was a tenderness in his face as he leaned down, pressing his lips over hers. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulder, wrinkling his shirt. His hand swept down to the small of her back, pulling her tight to him, the growing hardness between his legs pressed against her abdomen. “So beautiful,” he sighed, his breath hot against her cheek. He breathed in her perfume.

 “If you ask me to come upstairs, sir, I will.” Natasha’s voice was small but cold. She forced herself to release his shoulder. “But I’ll only be following orders.”

 Fury’s eye opened. “No, that won’t be necessary, Agent.” He released her, bracing both hands on the car and pushing away. “I can make it.”

 He made four steps before tripping. The world tilted and he struggled to his feet. Natasha watched impassively as he mostly crawled up the front steps, and stalled at the front door. She realized belatedly that she still had his keys. She unlocked the door and offered him a hand to get to his feet without making eye contact. He steadied himself against the wall instead.

 “I’m sorry about that.” He gestured toward the car with a shaking hand.

 “No harm done. I don’t think it needs to go in the report.” Natasha stalwartly avoided his gaze.

 “I’d appreciate that.” He took his keys gingerly, avoiding touching her hand, afraid of what might happen if he came in contact with her soft, warm skin. “I mean it though. I was out of line.”

 “You've been drugged,” Natasha reminded him. “You’re not yourself. I’ll have someone from medical stop by to check on you.”

 He tried not to stare at the way the taut fabric of her dress stretched across her ass as she moved. Once inside, he started a pot of coffee with no intention of sleeping until the effects of the drugs wore off. He shed his tuxedo on the bathroom floor and turned the shower on cold.

 “I sent her away,” he informed his persistent hard-on. With a little sigh, he took matters in hand. Eyes closed, icy water spraying across his back, he might have panted out her name when he came, but there was no one around to hear it.

 ***

 Natasha skipped going to headquarters for debriefing, skipped going to her own apartment and showed up at Clint and Phil’s instead. Clint was making French toast and watching Naked Gun with the sound off and the closed captioning on.

 “Phil asleep?” she asked as she let herself in.

 “Yeah. Nice dress.” Clint flipped a piece of toast. “Didn't know you were working tonight. Everything go okay?”

 “Cakewalk.”

 “You don’t usually show up for my two a.m. breakfast because you’re having a good night,” Clint observed.

 “I was running security for … an important man. Very important. He was drugged but I got him out safely,” Natasha said. “He wasn't knocked out, though, just out of it.”

 Clint slid the toast onto a plate and turned off the burner. He looked at her expectantly.

 “It was nothing, he-- I took him back to a safe place and he tried to kiss me. No.” She touched the center of her upper lip lightly with the tip of her middle finger. “He did kiss me.”

 “Tell me you didn't kill the guy you were supposed to protect,” Clint pleaded.

 Natasha shook her head. “I didn't. Not worth the paperwork. I just don’t know how to feel. I think I should be angry because he was so far out of line, but he was drugged. It wasn't his fault and he didn't – “ She shrugged and gestured as she reached for an explanation. “He didn't hurt me or threaten to hurt me; he apologized. It was just a kiss. It wasn't even a bad kiss.” She was hyper aware of the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

 Clint looked at her dubiously. “Your righteous indignation button must be broken. Go with anger,” he advised. “Guy’s a jerk and you should be mad at him.”

 “I’m pretty much guaranteed to have to work with him again. I’d rather just forget it.”

 “Oh God, was it Stark?”

 “No!” Natasha exclaimed. “I wouldn't hesitate to be mad at Stark, why would you even ask that?”

 “Rogers?” Clint guessed.

 “Would spontaneously combust before succumbing to a kiss. It wasn't anyone on the team. It was someone else. Are you making enough for the both of us?” she gestured to the French toast.

 “I guess I am now,” Clint answered, getting two more slices of bread out.

 ***

 “You kissed Romanov?” Coulson’s tone was accusatory.

 “I was drugged,” Fury countered, sounding hung-over.

 “I saw the tox screen,” Coulson replied. “Disorientation, drowsiness, lowered inhibitions. Nothing that would've made you do something you weren't already inclined to do.”

 “What do you want me to say, Phil?” Fury sighed. “I’m only blind in one eye. She’s an attractive young woman. I was drugged. She made it clear she wasn't interested and I let it drop. I even apologized.”

 “Her trust has been shaken.” Coulson glowered at him.

 “I’ll make it right.”

 “And I have an ethical problem with you wanting to sleep with her, whether or not you act on that desire.”

 “Noted. Anything else?” Fury remarked. Coulson’s ethical problems didn't really concern him and he didn't want to throw it in the agent’s face that Phil himself was dating one of his own subordinates.

 “No, sir.”

 ***

 “Come in,” Fury called out when a knock sounded at his door. He stood as Agent Romanov entered. “Close the door, have a seat.”

 “I prefer to stand,” she responded as she pulled the door shut.

 “I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Fury said. He circled around to the front of his desk and leaned against it. “Now that I’m back at full functional capacity, I want to clear the air.” It was a carefully chosen posture: leaning away from her, giving her plenty of space while minimizing the height difference and appearing casual and non-threatening.

 “Sir?” Natasha prompted. She recognized the body language and saw it for what it was. It told her as much about the conversation as the director’s words.

 “Sleeping with me is not, and never will be, part of your job description,” he said bluntly.

 “Yes, sir,” Romanov schooled her tone of voice and features into perfectly flat neutrality.

 “You’re not obligated, under any circumstances, to participate in any manner of sexual activity,” Fury clarified. “Not with me, not with any agent, ally or enemy of SHIELD.”

 “I understand.”

 “And drugs or no drugs, if I ever try to kiss you, or to put my hands on you in any way that makes you uncomfortable, you go ahead and break my nose.”

 “I’ll consider that a standing order,” Natasha answered with a faint smile.

 “Good.” He smiled slightly as well. “I apologize again.”

 “Apology accepted.”

“You’re dismissed, Agent Romanov.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint/Phil fluff. Natasha/Nick smut. Fury should learn to watch what he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLICIT. Tags for: oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, language

_ Several Months Later _

 

Cautious was not part of Clint Barton’s typical modus operandi. He was precise. He was patient. He was decisive and, when the situation called for it, bold. He wasn’t cautious but neither was he impetuous. He had a fantastic sense of balance between planning and acting. Except when it came to Phil.

He’d been carrying a ring for ten months, three weeks and two days, planning the perfect proposal. Valentine’s Day came and went. They had dinner out and Clint gave him a tie pin shaped like an arrow. The anniversary of their first date came and went. They went to the symphony and Clint gave him cologne. Phil’s birthday came and went. Clint grilled salmon and baked a cake and steamed asparagus. He gave Phil a plum-colored silk tie and matching boxers. Clint’s birthday was seventeen days away.

“Do you think I could throw myself a birthday party and then when Phil shows up ‘Surprise!’ it’s a wedding?”

“You want to throw a surprise wedding?” Natasha eyed Clint.

“It sounds crazy when you say it,” Clint pouted.

“Can I be best man?” Nat asked.

“I was thinking maybe I’d ask Jasper…”

“He can be matron of honor.”

Clint sighed. “Sometimes, I just wake up in the morning and I can’t stand the thought of going through one more day not married to him.”

“Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I want a chimichanga, so I hit that Mexican place for lunch,” Natasha replied.

“That’s not really the same thing, Tasha.”

“At least I take the necessary steps to get what I want.”

Clint glowered at her, trying to convey his utter lack of amusement at her nonchalance.

“You could propose at the party,” she suggested.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he grumbled.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just ask him when you found out he wasn’t dead.”

“You coming to Karaoke on Friday?” Clint asked.

“Ha, ha, ha, no.”

“No?”

“Working,” she answered.

“All work and no play,” he teased.

Natasha rolled her eyes and walked away.

***

One of the perks of being director was a small, private workout area. It wasn’t much, furnished with a treadmill, a muk yan jong and some free weights, but it was right across the hall from his office and it had its own shower.

After a particularly grueling conversation with the World Security Council, Fury crossed the hall and taped his hands and set to work with the wooden training dummy. He didn’t look over when the door opened and there was a long pause before his visitor spoke.

“You seem stressed,” Romanov observed.

“I am.” Fury didn’t otherwise acknowledge the distraction, executing three more blows against the muk yan jong.

“Does that help?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Fury admitted.

“Spar?”

He stopped and looked at her. “There’s not really a place for it here.”

“There’s floor. I promise not to crack your head open on it.” She picked up the tape and tossed it from hand to hand.

“What’s your angle?”

“Something’s obviously bothering you. I want to help.”

Fury slitted his eye suspiciously but pushed the muk yan jong up against the wall to give them more room while Natasha taped her hands.

She was fast and had no qualms about attacking from his blind side. He was stronger, with longer reach. Their training covered different areas. They were matched evenly enough that Natasha’s superior stamina became the deciding factor. They kept knocking each other down, but she got up faster as the fight dragged on.

“I think,” he panted, “sparring is only good stress relief if I win.”

“Don’t be a poor sport. How about a massage?”

“From you?”

“I have many skills.” She peeled the tape off and cracked her knuckles.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“There must be something I can do,” she offered.

“What’s this all about?” Fury leveled his gaze at her.

“You said I wasn’t obligated to sleep with you,” she recalled. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“I didn’t,” he agreed.

“You didn’t say I shouldn’t,” she continued.

“That may have been an oversight on my part.” Alarm bells clattered in the back of his mind.

“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.” She closed the space between them with slow deliberate steps, hips swaying with each one, lips parted, hair tousled from their bout. “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Fury wasn’t usually one to play dumb, but he considered this an extenuating circumstance.

“Come on, Nick, don’t be coy.”

“Why?” His suspicions were running high and though he’d never admit it, she was making him more than a little nervous.

“I’m…” she hesitated. “Lonely, I guess. Bored. Horny. You’re available, you’re attractive – “

“Old, bald, guy with an eye patch is what does it for you?”

She smiled and touched his cheek lightly. “I’ve got scars of my own. Yours don’t bother me.”

“You’re playing me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not.” He wasn’t unjustified in thinking it or saying it, but the accusation still stung a bit. “It’s not about information or power. It’s not a game. You don’t have anything I want. Well…” Natasha licked her lips and glanced pointedly downward. “You have one thing I want.” Her fingertips brushed the front of his pants. 

He twitched back slightly; hesitation was written clearly on his face. She was sure he was going to turn her down.

“I’m not in love with you or anything stupid like that,” she assured him. “I don’t want commitment or romance or some deep emotional connection. It’s been a while for me and I’m hard up for a specific type of attention. You’re a good kisser and I think you’ll stop if I need you to.”

That was the crux of it. He was more than passingly familiar with her file. There weren’t many men she trusted to take what was offered and no more. Fury suspected the other two were involved in a committed relationship with each other.

“So, do you want to fuck me or not?” She tilted her head slightly.

“There’s a couch in my office and the door locks.”

She led him across the hall, stripping off her shirt even as he locked the door behind them.

“No strings attached. We do this, we have fun, but I am not available for a booty call.”

“I’m not buying you dinner,” Fury countered. “And I’m not your lover or your boyfriend or your anything.” Except your boss. He pushed that thought out of his mind.

“No labels,” Natasha agreed. “Any other ground rules?”

“Don’t call me sir. You?”

“Anything goes.”

He was sorely tempted to throw out some sort of outrageous kink, just to see if she’d back down, but he was far more interested in getting laid. Natasha finished undressing and sidled over to help him with his pants. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This time she reciprocated, drawing his tongue deeper into her mouth. She grabbed him by the wrist and placed his hand on her breast. He palmed the soft flesh, dragged his thumb over her skin to her nipple. He tugged the hardening nub between his fingers. She broke the kiss with a gasp and shoved his pants towards his ankles.

Natasha dug her fingers into his hips, pulling him towards the couch. She dropped onto the couch, swinging one leg up onto the back. “C’mere.”

Nick leaned over her, one hand swept up her side from her knee to her jaw, lingering a long moment at her breast. He kissed her again and again, the fruity, waxy taste of her lip balm; the smooth, sharp surfaces of her teeth; the wet, inviting heat of her mouth. He worked his way down, tasting the salt of sweat along her jaw and pressing his tongue to her pulse. He scraped his teeth across her collarbone and earned a gasp.

“Too rough?” he asked, looking up at her curiously.

Natasha shook her head. “Just right.”

His mouth and hands traveled slowly across her breasts towards her nipples until she began to squirm beneath him.

“Come on,” she urged, reaching for him.

“You in a hurry?”

“Aren’t you?” she teased breathlessly.

Nick shook his head. “I intend to take my time with you.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting upwards. “Is that so?”

“If this is a one-time thing, I’d like to make the most of it,” he explained. “With that in mind, I’m going to find out if you taste as good as I’ve imagined.” 

He dropped lower, grasping her hips in his strong hands, his tongue pressing into the folds of her sex. She gasped again, shuddering and bucking towards his mouth. He kept at it with slow, patient licks, delving deeper and deeper into her. Her body responded enthusiastically; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d let a man do this for her, let alone one who’d done it so well.

He listened closely to her gasps and moans, mostly wordless and savored her smell and taste and the feel of her. Her fingers grasped at his, prying his hand away from her hip and shoving it downward.

“In,” she panted, her voice nearly a whine.

Nick obediently slipped one finger into her, agonizingly slow.

“More,” she demanded in a whisper.

He added a second finger and focused his mouth on her clit, licking and sucking the sensitive flesh while his fingers plunged in and out of her.

Natasha fell silent. She drew a deep breath and Nick felt the walls of her sex clench, tight and trembling. She released her air in a shaky sigh. He eased his attentions slightly, catching a rare glimpse of her unguarded as she recovered.

“Oh. Wow.” She pressed against his hand and he gently rubbed his thumb around her clit, watching the way her teeth sank into the flesh of her lower lip and her eyes rolled back. “Mmm.”

“More?” he offered.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “So much more.” She hooked her hand around the base of his skull and pulled him up for a kiss.

Nick only knew that if this was a dream, he hoped morning was far off.

“I brought a condom.” Natasha met his gaze almost shyly. “If that’s okay.”

“Right now, you could ask me to wear a goddamn fedora and I wouldn’t hesitate.”

It was a good tension-breaker and Natasha laughed. “It’s in my pants pocket.” She watched him rummage through her discarded clothing.

He threw her pants at her. “Which pocket?”

“Lay down,” Natasha said, rolling off the couch, pants in hand. 

He flopped down gracelessly in the space she’d vacated. Fury stared at her, scrutinizing. The harsh fluorescent lights of his office gave no quarter. She’d mentioned scars earlier. There was one on her abdomen; another curving across the back of her hip towards her buttocks; three, parallel, on her upper arm; one small and round on the underside of her breast. The more he looked, the more scars seemed to appear on her pale skin.

“You’re gorgeous,” he declared. His cock twitched at her touch as she rolled the condom onto him.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He started to deny it but his words were lost to a gasp and groan as she straddled him and slid down, enveloping his cock in the exquisite tightness of her pussy with one fluid motion. “Fuck,” he managed to get out.

“I thought we were.” She was so calm, so cool, so much in control as she rode him.

He stuttered profanity, grasped her hips, slid his hands up and dug his fingers into her ribs, pulling her closer to mouth her breasts. “Feels so good,” he panted against her chest. She watched him, reaching, desperate for more of her.

“You want to drive?” she offered.

“Hell yes.”

Natasha sat on the arm of the couch and leaned back so she was lying on the cushions, her hips angled up invitingly. Nick pushed into her slowly until she hooked one leg around his waist and pulled him the rest of the way. He braced one arm on the back of the couch and thrust into her hard.

“Oh.” She urged him on with a combination of wordless squeals and half-intelligible verbal pornography.

As much as he wanted to lose himself in enjoying her body, he found himself watching her face, muttering his own words of encouragement. “…your beautiful pussy…so nice and tight.” He was pretty sure she was faking but when she clenched the walls of her sex around him and cried out in what sounded like ecstasy, it was enough to tip him over the edge nonetheless. He came, shuddering, with a low grunt and slowed his thrusts. He pulled out slowly, stumbled back a few steps and leaned against the wall.

Natasha swung her legs around to the front of the couch as she sat up. “I hope that was better stress relief than the sparring.”

Nick was easing the condom off gingerly. “It was. You get what you came for?”

“Don’t I always?” She smirked at him. She dressed quickly.

“No strings?”

“None.” She paused and waited for him to give her his full attention. “Would it be alright if maybe we did this again sometime?”

“Whatever happens, happens,” Nick replied with a shrug. “I’m not going to wait by the phone.”

“Of course not. You are a bit more fun than the battery operated alternative in my nightstand though.”

“As long as this doesn’t interfere with our work,” Fury hedged.

“I’m a consummate professional and offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Then you’re welcome here anytime.”

She let him get dressed before opening the door.

It was about an hour later that two requests for time off appeared in his inbox. One was from Agent Coulson and the other from Agent Barton. Both for the same two week time period about a year off. Fury frowned.

***

“You and Agent Barton have big plans for next summer?”

Phil had a very brief deer-in-the-headlights moment before he recovered. “Very big plans, Sir.” Suddenly he was barely repressing a smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be invited.” He grinned. “To the wedding.” Then Coulson cleared his throat and was back to his usual professional demeanor. “Sorry, Sir, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Congratulations.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and conversations. Clint and Coulson are the cutest couple. Nick and Natasha move from adult relations to adult conversation. Clint says the L word and tempts fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useful tags include: blow job, adult language.

At three am, Director Fury was reviewing paperwork, drinking decaf and pretending he didn’t have a massive headache. He scowled at his door when a knock disturbed his thoughts.

“Enter,” he snapped.

The door swung open to reveal Natasha in the corridor. She’d come straight from a mission, still clad in a sequined black dress, her stiletto heels dangling from her fingertips.

“You seem stressed,” she remarked.

“You want to spar in that dress?”

“Is that what you want?” Natasha countered, sauntering in and locking the door behind her.

“We should talk,” Fury replied.

Natasha laughed. “I didn’t come here for a conversation.”

“Does this have anything to do with Barton and Coulson’s impending nuptials?”

She shook her head. “Doom impends. Nuptials are upcoming or something more cheerful sounding.” Natasha shrugged. “And no. I don’t think so. Maybe. I think you’re overthinking this.”

“Why are you here?”

“Seemed a waste of a good dress to go home alone.”

Fury looked her over. The dress was long enough to be decent, but short enough to be interesting. It hugged her curves and the neckline dipped into her cleavage without plunging. She dropped her shoes on the floor as she approached him.

“Need a closer look?” she offered.

Nick turned his chair to face her and she straddled his lap, kissing him deeply. She pressed her lips to his insistently, driving her tongue into his mouth and his resolve crumbled. He stroked one hand up the outside of her thigh, up under the hem of the dress.

“You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?” he murmured between kisses.

***

“I don’t know, is silver too trendy?” Clint wondered aloud, flipping through invitation samples. “I mean, gold is more traditional, but I don’t know that I really want traditional.”

“This one has copper embossing,” Natasha pointed out, pushing her catalog over to show him.

“Urm,” Clint scrunched up his nose. “I think I want plum and black for colors.”

“Black isn’t a color,” Natasha objected.

“Silver would fit best though, right? With plum and black?”

“I think the copper is very handsome. And it’d be nice with plum. You’re not going to wear the damned invitation in your tux pocket.” She took back her catalog.

“I know that; I just want everything to be…”

“Perfect,” Natasha proclaimed. “This.” She showed him.

“It’s copper again, just drop the copper thing.”

“That’s fletching, that’s arrow fletching used as trim,” Natasha pointed to the edge of the invitation.

“Hey…” Clint perked up.

“You can order them with pewter embossing.”

“Sold,” Clint declared. “You’re in a good mood,” he observed.

Natasha raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Really, I mean, I’ve noticed it for a while now. What’s different?”

“Maybe I’m just happy for you and Phil.”

It was Clint’s turn to look skeptical.

“Maybe I’ve been seeing someone.”

“A therapist or a boyfriend?” Clint asked with a frown.

***

“Come in,” Fury called with a groan, not looking up when the knock came at his office door.

“You seem stressed.”

He sighed and pushed away from his desk. “I don’t know that I have the energy or focus for this tonight,” he admitted.

“How about a backrub and blowjob?” Natasha countered. “You think you have the energy for that?”

“That sounds phenomenal,” Fury admitted.

“Undress,” she purred into his ear, running her hands over his shoulders. “Let me take care of you.”

He stood up, peeling off his shirt. Natasha knelt next to him and began removing his shoes. Neither of them spoke as he stripped. He positioned himself face down on the couch and Natasha rubbed her hands together vigorously to warm them.

She began with broad, sweeping caresses over his back, growing more and more focused as she found the knotted muscles in his shoulders. Nick let his tension fade away and concentrated on enjoying her touch. He lost all account of time. He felt the warmth of her breath against his skin and the tickle of her hair as she nuzzled his neck. “Roll over,” she urged.

He gasped, shuddering with his whole body when she took his cock into her mouth. It didn’t take long before she had him panting. “Oh, God, that’s so good…” he trailed off into a wordless groan. He braced himself against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions. “Fuck, babe.” His breath hitched. His grunt sounded almost pained as he came.

When he opened his eye, Natasha had vanished from between his legs and was sitting next to his trash can, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” Nick offered.

She shrugged.

“Come on over here and I’ll return the favor.”

“No thanks.” She shrugged again, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she got to her feet. “Hope the rest of your night goes better.”

He was still sitting, dumbfounded and naked, on the couch as she left.

***

Fury showed up at Natasha’s apartment six hours later. If she was surprised to find him on her doorstep, she didn’t show it. She opened the door and stepped aside.

“Coffee?” she offered.

He entered, closing the door behind him. “No thank you.” Her apartment was as he’d expected; simple, clean, and neutral. “I’m not comfortable with the way things played out earlier this morning,” he began.

“You seemed to like it well enough at the time.” Natasha smirked.

“I’m serious. I prefer that things between us are reciprocal.”

Natasha smiled, fighting genuine amusement. “That’s probably not going to happen.”

Nick crossed his arms over his chest and glared in response.

“Look, you’re one of maybe three people I’ve actually had an orgasm with. Don’t get me wrong, you’re fantastic, but I know myself well enough to know that’s just not going to happen every time.” Natasha shrugged. “Leaving aside times like this morning, when my own orgasm wasn’t something I was interested in.” 

Fury listened and waited. It was a pretty classic interrogation tactic: to get your suspect started and just let them ramble.

“Why not?” Nick asked. “It’s your prerogative, but what were you interested in?”

“If I just want to come, I can do that myself. Sometimes, I don’t. Sometimes, I don’t want to be touched, even by my own hands. But I still want the ego boost that comes from turning you on, getting you off, or the way you pant and gasp and squirm.” She sidled closer. “You say such nice things when you’re half out of your head with lust.”

“Yeah, every time I try to discuss things you trot out the whole ‘a little less conversation, a little more action’ routine. Not this time.”

“I know I’m damaged.” Natasha cast her eyes down.

“Don’t say that,” Nick interjected.

She shrugged. “It’s true. I want to feel useful and the easiest solution is sex.”

“Useful,” he echoed.

“Damaged,” Natasha repeated.

“Like I’m using you.” There was a quiet undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha said quickly.

“Is there some other meaning for the word use?” Nick demanded.

“Yes.”

“There isn’t.” Guilt threatened to choke him. All of this had been a bad idea from the start. He clenched his jaw.

“There is,” she insisted. “Okay, maybe there isn’t, but it’s different to me. I won’t say there aren’t times when I want to be used, but it’s not the same as wanting to be useful.”

“Explain.”

Natasha wanted to refuse. She wanted to throw in his face that she owed him no explanations, that answers had never been part of their arrangement. She knew his angry front was masking something more. She wasn’t ready to end things yet.

“Useful is active, it has agency. Used is passive. That’s the best explanation I can put in words. Useful is something that I do, used is something that is done to me. I don’t feel the same after one as I do after the other.” She met his gaze without flinching. “Full disclosure?”

“Please.”

“I miss it sometimes. It was awful and abusive but I knew where I stood. That’s why I don’t date. Relationships aren’t simple like that; it’s all passive-aggressive bullshit and….”

“And what exactly have we been doing?” Fury asked. “Tell me this morning wasn’t passive-aggressive bullshit.”

Natasha didn’t answer. She didn’t fidget or look away, but she didn’t answer.

“I’m just asking for a little transparency.” Nick softened in both posture and tone.

“Is that really fair, from either of us?”

“I’m making an effort. You want to feel useful, what does that mean? What does that require of me? Tell me what you want; I’ll do my best to provide it.”

***

“Can you keep an eye on Phil while I’m gone?” Clint didn’t look up from his suitcase.

“I always do,” Natasha replied, feigning offense that he would have to ask.

“He’s adorable, but he’s a little paranoid sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.” Natasha reached over Clint and pulled a granola bar out of his bag, unwrapping it.

“I was going to eat that.”

“Get another, what’s up with big C?”

“Don’t call him that. I think that he thinks that, specifically because we’re engaged now, this is going to be the mission where something terrible happens to me.” Clint leaned against the edge of the bed with a sigh.

“Like those action movies where the cop is one day from retirement and of course gets killed by terrorists?” Natasha asked between bites of Clint’s snack.

“The war movie where the soldier who’s showing off pictures of his girl back home dies first.” He shook his head. “Why do movies do that?”

“It’s good drama. It’s a cheap way to get sympathy from the audience.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Don’t say that,” Natasha warned. “You say that and then this whole conversation, and the coinciding fight you and Phil had last night, becomes foreshadowing when you get your legs dramatically blown off by an explosion.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Clint reiterated.

“You’re tempting fate,” Natasha replied.

Clint snatched the rest of the granola bar out of her hand and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

“What I’m saying is that if something does happen, it has nothing to do with your engagement. Nothing to do with Phil. It’s not the universe telling him not to dare be happy.” She walked over to Clint’s dresser and pulled two more granola bar out of the box on top. “And that you need to buy more granola bars.” She tucked one back into Clint’s bag and began unwrapping the other.

“You ever feel that way?” Clint asked.

“No, I don’t buy food, I just steal yours.”

“I mean about the universe not wanting you to be happy.” Clint gave her a look with raised eyebrows and dropped chin.

Natasha took a huge bite of her granola bar. “Oh,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, can’t talk with my mouth full.” She chewed theatrically.

“You’re happier lately than I ever remember you being,” Clint observed.

Natasha shrugged and swallowed. “I guess I’m feeling pretty good.”

“Still seeing that guy?”

She nodded.

“You in love with him yet?”

“No. That’s what’s so great. No emotional attachment, no risks. Phil is different. He’s a good person. A genuinely decent man. He does deserve to be happy. Me? I’m a recipe for disaster. Karma is a bitch and she will cut me if I rise too far.”

“You don’t think you’ve worked off any of that bad karma in the past decade?” Clint reasoned.

“I’ve built up enough of a buffer that I think I can get away with getting laid proper on a regular basis. Love is pushing it.”

“I love you,” Clint pointed out.

“And now you’re definitely going to get killed, comatose at a minimum. Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” He pushed her hair away from her face tenderly. “You’re not as awful as you think.”

“Please don’t get killed.”

“No promises,” Clint shrugged, turning back to his bag to finish packing.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone ships Clint/Phil. Nick and Natasha take things to the next level. Non-bondage, rough sex, filthy language. 99% porn. .5% plot. .5% jokes about Russian cuisine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/tag here for mild homophobic attitudes.

Natasha let herself into Clint and Phil’s apartment with an armful of grocery bags and frowned when she heard the television. She set her things on the kitchen counter and headed into the living room with an eye-roll, assuming Clint had left it on. 

Phil was on the couch.

“Shouldn’t you still be at work?” she asked.

“I left early, what are you doing here?”

“You do the same thing every time Clint’s out of town for work. You eat garbage, watch Glee on Netflix and scrub until the whole building smells of bleach. I can’t help your terrible taste in television or obsessive cleaning but I came to cook you dinner. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Coulson lied.

“You’ve been crying. Has something happened?” Concern crept into Natasha’s voice.

“Clint’s fine.”

“But you’re not,” she pressed. She settled onto the couch next to him.

“I asked Jasper to be my best man,” Phil explained. “He…declined.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said he already had plans that weekend,” Phil replied. “Which I thought was odd, since I hadn’t told him the date.” He sniffled. “He said he thinks I’m a great guy and he’s happy for us but he doesn’t think it’s right for two men to get married. And he won’t stand up in front of God and everyone and pretend that’s not the case. And he hopes we can still be friends.”

“You want me to rough him up?” Natasha answered.

“No.” Phil shook his head. “He’s entitled to his opinion.” 

“And a beating. And you’re entitled to your wedding.”

“So, what’s for dinner?”

“I think, given the circumstances, binging on junk food could be justified. I’ll take you out. But tomorrow, I’m cooking. I bought everything to make coulibiac, let me put a few things in your fridge.”

“Nat, I like you as a person, but I might accidentally unplug my refrigerator.”

“Pft, it’s good for you. Puts hair on your chest.” Natasha tapped her chest emphatically.

“You got anything that’ll put hair on my scalp?”

She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll make it up to you; you can choose what we eat tonight.”

“Nachos,” Phil declared without hesitation. 

“You know,” Natasha called from the kitchen. “Hill would do it for you.”

“I really don’t want to talk about the wedding right now.”

“I’m sorry about Jasper.”

“I thought I knew him,” Phil said sadly.

***

“Distract me,” Natasha requested.

Nick looked up at her. “We’ve got to stop doing this here; people are going to figure it out.”

“So meet me at my apartment in 20 minutes and distract me there.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“People suck.”

“People?” Nick raised an eyebrow at her.

“Homophobic people who result in Phil crying into my fried ice cream,” Natasha specified. 

“What happened?” He stood, frowning. Natasha shook her head.

“I don’t need to get into it. Phil’s fine; Clint’s going to break somebody’s fingers when he finds out, and I really, genuinely, don’t want to talk about it. I just want a distraction. You in?”

Nick glanced at his computer. “Give me 40 minutes?”

“You know where to find me.”

***

It took over an hour to get enough work done that Fury could justify leaving for the night. He almost got a ticket on the way to Natasha’s apartment. She answered the door in yoga pants and a GI Joe t-shirt.

“I thought maybe you changed your mind,” she said by way of an explanation.

"I would've called if I changed my mind. I just got caught up in what I was working on. Sorry. I should've called anyway."

Natasha shrugged. "Defeats the purpose of a no-strings-attached, casual thing if you feel like you have to call me all the damn time."

"We can be casual and still be polite," Nick argued. "I said 40 minutes and took twice that. I apologize."

"I hope I’m not pulling you away from something more important,” Natasha frowned. 

“I didn’t come here to talk.”

She smiled. “Isn’t that usually my line?” 

Nick kissed her. It was sudden, his hand sweeping through her hair to clasp the back her neck, his lips pressing urgently against hers. Natasha felt a delicious shiver run through her body. 

“You weren’t kidding,” she gasped, fumbling to lock the door. 

He was busy taking off his shoes. “Couch or bed? Or floor?”

Natasha stared at him. “Bed.”

“Is this what you want?” Nick asked as he followed her to her bedroom.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. 

“Good.” He stripped off her shirt as soon as they were in the bedroom. He attacked her breasts with his mouth, sucking hard, drawing the tender skin against the edges of his teeth. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and underwear together and shoved them toward the floor. 

“Oh, God,” Natasha gasped, arching into him. Her nails scraped across his back as she pulled up at his shirt. He let up so she could pull it over his head and off. Nick picked her up, out of the clothes puddled at her feet and practically tossed her onto the bed. He fell in next to her, kissing her deeply, until he felt her hands at his fly.

Nick grasped her wrists gently, drawing her hands up above her head and pressing her wrists against the pillow firmly. “Stay.”

A shudder passed through Natasha at the command in his voice. She nodded faintly. Nick rolled into a kneeling position, his hands ghosting down her arms, across her breasts, past her hips and stopping at her thighs. He pushed her legs apart. “Stay,” he repeated. 

Natasha swallowed hard, her breath fluttering in her chest. “Yes,” she whispered in acknowledgment, her mouth suddenly dry. She had a good idea where all of her body’s moisture had gone. As soon as his hands had closed around her wrists, she’d felt the flood of arousal hit her full force.

It took a feat of will to remain as he had posed her once his fingers slipped into her pussy. He rubbed his thumb over her clit. Natasha felt hypersensitive, she could feel the whorls and loops and arches formed by the ridges of his fingerprints. She focused on breathing and feeling and staying still.

“Good,” he purred, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

She squirmed against the mounting pressure, twisting her arms as though trying to free herself from invisible ropes. Her pale skin was flushed, pink mottled on her cheeks and breasts; her hair was splayed over her crossed wrists, bound by nothing but a word. Nick watched her admiringly while he teased her with his hand. Natasha worried her lower lip with her teeth and whined, her breath speeding to a pant. 

“You look so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt.”

Natasha gasped and Nick felt the ripple of her muscles tensing. 

“I want you to say my name when you come.”

Natasha nodded, barely, her hips rising for more contact. “I will,” she promised breathlessly. The friction and pressure and a slight edge of pain as her body stretched to accommodate his third finger coalesced into a perfect storm. “Nick.” Her hips began to cant, her body twisting to escape the intensity, but he gently put his free hand on her pelvis, pressing her against the mattress. 

“God, Nick,” her voice had a pleading tone. 

“Yes,” he responded. “That’s it, that’s good.”

Tremors wracked through her, wave upon wave cresting. He watched her climax, refusing to let her pleasure subside, even as his hand cramped. 

“You’re gorgeous, you’re so good,” he murmured. 

She went slack, moaning softly. Her eyes were mostly closed.

“How’re you doing?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Mm-mm.”

“I need words, Natasha.”  
“Don’t stop.” Her words were a low, breathy whisper that cut through him. She opened her eyes to look at him. “I don’t want to stop.”

She whined when he withdrew his fingers. He kissed her, nuzzled her jaw so he could whisper into her ear. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed, I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes.” Natasha nodded. “Yes. That.”

“But I haven’t even got my pants off yet, I’m going to need both hands for a sec.”

“Mmm, fine. Be logical.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you pout,” Nick observed as he quickly shucked off his trousers and scavenged a condom from his pocket. “I ought to turn you over my knee for throwing attitude.”

“Would you really?”

He looked at her, considering. She still had her hands above her head, wrists crossed, legs spread. “How long are you going to stay like that?” he asked.

“You haven’t released me,” Natasha observed.

“I beg to differ,” he chuckled, rolling on the condom.

“As long as you want me to,” she clarified. 

He crawled back onto the bed and knelt between her thighs. “Good.” He kissed her softly and thrust into her hard. She cried out against his mouth. He set a brutal pace, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep going for long. 

“Yes, please, fuck me hard,” Natasha moaned. 

It was the quaver in her voice on the word please that tipped the scales for Nick. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back and ground his mouth against her throat as he came. He withdrew, collapsed on the bed next to her.

“Shit,” he panted. “You can move now.”

Natasha stretched and rolled onto her side, bringing her hands down.

“Shit.”

“No good?” Natasha frowned.

“Very good,” he assured her. “Very, very good. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Mmm. What a way to go.”

“Modest too,” Nick grumbled. “Let me take care of this.” He gestured toward the condom. She rolled away to let him up. He stood and wavered for a moment. “Fuck my legs. My knees are all…uncooperative.” He plopped down on the edge of the bed. 

Natasha laughed at him. “You need help?”

He eased the condom off. “You put that in the trash,” he said, holding it out to her. “I’m going to lay down and collect my thought.”

“Just the one thought?” Natasha teased, taking the spent prophylactic and sidling off the bed.

“Yes, just the one thought.”

Natasha sauntered out of the bedroom. She ditched the condom in the bathroom trash and took a moment to pee and wash her hands and check her neck for marks in the mirror. Nick was still in her bed when she returned.

“Was that okay? Is that what you wanted?”

“That was incredible,” Natasha replied. “Yes, more like that. Anytime.” She snuggled up next to him.

“Language was okay?” he asked. “I know you said you didn’t care but I felt a little awkward throwing out the c word without a precedent.”

“Well, now there’s a precedent.” She smiled. “I liked it. I told you, the only words that are going to trigger a negative reaction for me are Russian. It’s not going to come spilling from your lips naturally. If it helps, I can start using rougher language.”

“I would enjoy hearing it.”

“So the spanking thing,” Natasha broached.

“Too much?”

“Empty threats are nobody’s friend,” she replied. “If you want to, do it, but you better be prepared to do it hard.”

“How hard?” he asked.

“Leave-a-mark hard,” she replied. “And that’s for fun. If you want to pass it off as punishment, you should use something stronger than your hand. I have a hairbrush, or you could use your belt. But not the buckle.”

He didn’t say anything but he pursed his lips. 

“If you’re not into it, that’s okay,” Natasha added. “I’m quite happy with the sex we’ve been having.”

“But it’s not really satisfying all your needs.”

“You asked what I wanted. I told you. And you delivered in a big way tonight. I’d be very satisfied with more like what we just did. Maybe you could skip the preamble…”

“By preamble you mean foreplay?” Nick said. 

“Yes. Just throw me down on the bed and fuck me.”

“I was under the impression you enjoyed my…preamble.”

“I do. But the sex would be more intense without so much build up.” She curled up to him and placed her hand on his chest. 

“You’re definitely going to be the death of me. How so?”

“Well, there’s the mental component, like you want me so bad you can’t possibly wait. That’s fun. And there’s a physical component.”

“Which is?” he prompted. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she began. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “What?”

“That’s almost a sure sign that you’re going to say something I don’t want to hear.”

“I appreciate your efforts towards ensuring my enjoyment, but if I don’t get off before we get started, I won’t be so relaxed during. There’s no delicate way of phrasing this. You’re,” she glanced pointedly downward. “Big enough to give me a good kind of hurt if I’m not…so relaxed.” 

“And that’s something you want?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. 

He stared up at her ceiling. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know where you draw the line between the good kind of hurt and the bad kind of hurt, but I know I don’t want to cross it.”

“It’s way over there,” she replied, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “Can you just trust me to know what I want?”

“I trust you to know what you want,” he argued. “I’m iffy on your willingness to communicate it.” 

“I’m working on it.” Natasha pulled her hand away, tucking her arm in against her chest. 

“I know. I appreciate that. The further we go, the more important that becomes.” He turned to face her. “I don’t want to be something you regret.”

“I don’t.” Her voice was soft. “But I feel the same way. Don’t hurt me because I ask you to and then hate yourself in the morning.”

He craned his neck to read the clock on her nightstand. “I’ve got to go back, I’ve got more work to do.”

“Thanks for the distraction.”

“Any fucking time, babe.” He smiled at her. She smiled back.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A chapter without porn? Nick has a talk with a friend, Clint comes home, Phil embarrasses himself, Nick and Natasha have a post-coital cuddle conversation, and Clint and Natasha go flower picking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special guest appearance by Wolverine...sort of. With apologies, I posted prematurely this morning and have added a breif scene to the end of this chapter to help out with pacing.

The man at the end of the bar needed a shave and a haircut. Both he and his leather jacket had seen better days. The other patrons were giving him a wide berth, but Fury sat down next to him. The man glanced over.

“Nick.”

“Logan.”

“You’ve got some catching up to do,” Logan remarked, gesturing to his nearly empty beer bottle.

“I gave up on going drink to drink with you a long time ago,” Nick replied with a chuckle. “I think you owe me a round though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Patch? Seriously?”

Logan snorted. “You heard about that? Did you like it? You inspired me.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“Takes one to know one.” 

Logan paid for Nick’s first drink anyway. They drank and reminisced, trading war stories so old and well-worn that one could finish the other’s tale. 

“So, who is she?” Logan asked, unprompted.

“What?” Nick feigned confusion. 

“Come on, bub. I don’t know what’s weirder: that you've got a girl or that you haven’t said a word about her all night.” Logan gave him a knowing look. “She married?”

“No.”

“Ugly?”

“No,” Nick seemed appalled by the question.

“She work for the wrong people? Is she a terrorist?” Logan pried.

“She works for me,” Nick hissed back. “For SHIELD.”

“Better than the alternative,” Logan reasoned.

Nick shook his head.

“Hey,” Logan continued. “She’s not a terrorist. She’s not married or ugly or underage. Yeah, I’m sure it’s a violation of company policy, but just think of all the things you could be violating.” He smirked.

“You’re a bastard,” Nick declared, again. 

“Is the sex at least good enough to be worth it?”

“Yes.” There wasn't even a moment of hesitation. 

“Do you love her?”

Nick hesitated then. “It’s not that kind of a thing.”

“Oh? What kind of thing is it?”

“Casual. No strings. No emotions.”

“Some guys have all the luck,” Logan groused. 

“We've been at this for a few months…it’s hard not to let some strings develop.” 

“You sleeping with anyone else?” Logan asked. 

“No.” Nick chuckled. “Don’t have the time.”

“That’s your problem right there,” Logan proclaimed. “Monogamy is a trap. You fix that, you won’t care so much for the strings.”

“I’m not interested in sleeping with someone else,” Nick insisted.

“Then you might as well nail your coffin shut, bub.”

***

Clint couldn't help but smile when he saw his fiancé, leaning against the side of the car, waiting for him. Coulson had clearly come from work to pick him up, with his sunglasses and his suit, but he’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt. He watched the shift in Phil’s body language when he saw Clint, the way his back straightened, the lines on his face relaxed. 

He wore a hint of a smile, warm and comfortable. When Clint put his hand on his chest and leaned in for a kiss, Phil tensed, the smile became forced. Clint stopped, less than an inch from Phil’s face, and frowned.  
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil answered too quickly. “There are a lot of people here.”

Clint nodded, lips pressed into a tight line. He circled around and tossed his bag into the trunk. Phil didn't move until he heard the passenger door close. He slid in on the driver’s side and turned off the radio before starting the car.

“So…now you’re ashamed of me? Or of us?” Clint started.

“No.” Phil’s voice was very quiet.

“I've been gone a week and when I come home, you don’t want me to kiss you because there are people around,” Clint argued.

“I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Clint crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. “You care too much what other people think.”

“Clint…”

“I mean, we’re not like Clockwork Orange style forcing people to watch us make out; they've got necks. Turn your fucking head if you don’t like it.”

“Clint,” Phil repeated a little louder. 

“You know we’re going to make people uncomfortable. Some people are assholes and they don’t want to see us happy. You can’t let those people run our lives, Phil. Ignore them and for fuck’s sake let me kiss you when I come home.”

Phil made a very sudden lane change and hard right turn. 

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a parking place,” Phil replied. 

“I’m not trying to start a fight,” Clint sighed. “I’m just feeling a little rejected here.”

He heard brakes squeal from behind them and Phil pulled over. 

“Please don’t get us killed,” Clint muttered as Phil parked.

“Get out.”

Clint stared, stunned.

“Get out of the car,” Phil repeated. He unbuckled his seat belt and checked the traffic before getting out, walking around to Clint’s side of the car. 

“For a second there, I thought you were just kicking me out of the car,” Clint said as Phil opened his door. He remained in place. “You know our wedding is going to be one giant public display of affection. If you think for one second that I'm not going to kiss you front of all those people, you're wrong."

Coulson reached across to undo Clint's seat belt. "Will you please just get out of the car?"

"You're not afraid someone will be offended by seeing us walking together? Maybe I should follow a safe distance behind."

Phil grabbed his fiancé by the shirt. 

"Hey! Stop manhandling me!"

He dragged Clint out of the car and shoved him against the back door, slamming the front one. "I'm sorry," he shouted. He knelt on the pavement in front of Clint and looked up at him with damp eyes.

"What are you doing? Get up."

"When the night has come," Phil started singing, voice cracking and slightly off key. "and the land is dark. And the moon is the only light we see." He got better as he went on. "No I won't be afraid. No I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Clint put his hand to his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people pausing to watch the scene unfold. 

"So, darling, darling, stand by me. Oh oh, stand by me. Oh stand, stand by me."

"Get up," Clint urged quietly.

"If the sky, that we look upon, should crumble and fall. And the mountains, should tumble, to the sea." Phil shook his head stubbornly. "I won't cry. I won't cry. No I won't shed a tear. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Passersby were outright staring as Phil launched into the second chorus. "And darling, darling, Stand by me, oh stand by me. Oh stand now, stand by me. Stand by me. So darling, darling, Stand by me, oh stand by me. Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me. Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me. Oh stand by me, oh won't you stand now, stand. Stand by me." 

Phil stood up, brushing off the knees of his slacks. "I love you. I don't care who knows it. And I'm sorry. I don't ever, ever want you to feel like I'm ashamed of you."

"I forgive you."

Phil moved in to kiss him.

"People are staring," Clint warned him.

"Let them."

***

Natasha was busy pulling the blankets up when Nick returned to the bed. “You need to turn your heat on,” she told him. 

“It’s barely autumn,” he replied. “You don’t pay my utility bills. You want another blanket? Or are you getting dressed and running off?”

She looked at the clock. “Is it okay if I stay a couple hours? I’m tired, I don’t want to drive home.”

Nick crawled under the covers. “Come here, I’ll keep you warm.”

Natasha smiled and wiggled over to him.

“Hey!” Nick recoiled. “How does your ass drop 20 degrees in fifteen seconds?”

“Your apartment is like an icebox,” she replied.

“Your ass is like a butterball turkey.”

“Do not use the phrases my ass and butterball in the same sentence,” Natasha warned him. 

Nick laughed and stroked her hair. “Okay, but you’re cold to the touch, I wasn't in the bathroom that long.”

“Yes, you were. And that’s why I’m snuggling you. That hot body has to be good for more than one thing.”

“Are you sleeping with anybody else?” Nick asked, suddenly serious.

“Nice segue,” Natasha said once she recovered. “And no.”

“Do you want to?”

She frowned, studying his face in the dim light.

“What?” Nick prompted.

“I’m trying to figure out what the right answer is,” Natasha admitted.

"The right answer is the truth."

She snorted. 

“Natasha.”

“No. I’m not particularly interested in sleeping with anyone else. Is that…is that something you’re interested in?” She bit her lip. “Because we can talk about it if you are.”

“I’m not,” Nick assured her.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he repeated.

“Good, because I’m really not. I’d do about anything you asked me to, but even the thought of being asked to sleep with someone else…” she trailed off.

“That’s really not what I was getting at.” He put his arm over her and rubbed her back lightly. “I’m telling you that I’m not sleeping with anyone else and I don’t want to. And if it’s not a level of commitment above what you’re comfortable with, maybe we could just agree to be exclusive.”

“Oh.” Natasha laid her cheek against his chest. “I’d like that. Exclusively mine. Exclusively yours.”

***

“I like the orchids,” Natasha opined.

“Orchids are expensive,” Clint observed. 

“They’re also purple,” she retorted.

“Have you two been together long?” the florist asked conversationally. 

Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance. “Oh,” Clint said. “Um.”

“We’re not,” Natasha replied helpfully. “I’m the best man.”

Clint elbowed her. “The gender neutral term is ‘honor attendant’ apparently.”

“That sounds stupid,” Natasha declared. “I’m not attending to your honor. I’m the best friend, how’s that?”

“Better. Anyway, Fury’s the best man.”

Natasha masked her surprise well, but not quite well enough to get past Clint’s radar. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. It makes perfect sense, he and Phil have always been close, and even closer since the, um, Tahiti.”

The florist looked completely baffled. “So, is purple one of your colors?” she asked, trying to get things back on track.

“Yeah, purple and black. I don’t want black flowers, of course,” Clint said. 

“Do you have black flowers?” Natasha asked.

“There are some irises,” the florist suggested. 

“Those also come in purple,” Natasha informed Clint. 

“Oh, honey, there are lots of purple flowers. You have no idea. Do you like something frillier looking, lots of little petals or ruffled petals, or something with clean lines and fewer petals?”

“Um, less frilly, I think,” Clint said. 

“You know, with calla lilies and tulips, maybe some irises, I could put together something with a brighter purple alongside a very dark, nearly black purple. It’d be very elegant, sort of monochrome.”

“That sounds great.”

“I’m only being helpful because I want to come when you taste test cakes,” Natasha whispered to Clint.

“You’re really not being that helpful,” Clint teased. “We’ll need three boutonnieres, and I guess a corsage for this nag,” he gestured to Natasha.

“You’re going to pay for that. And lunch,” she glared at him. 

“Centerpieces for the reception? Decorations for the aisle or altar?”

“Who knew you needed so many flowers to get married?” Clint sighed.

***

“I wasn’t sure if Phil had told you about his conversation with Jasper,” Natasha said as they sat down to order lunch.

“Yeah.” Clint grimaced. “And then he threatened to withhold sex until all Sitwell’s injuries were completely healed if I went and gave him a talking to.”

“Harsh.”

Clint shrugged. “I don’t think he would’ve gone through with it. I mean, that’s as much a punishment for him as it is for me. Still, not worth calling his bluff.”

Natasha nodded agreeably.

“Speaking of, you still sleeping with that guy?”

“I am. In fact, we just had the ‘not seeing other people’ talk.”

“That seems pretty serious for your casual fling,” Clint observed, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

“It’s just putting words to what was already the case,” Natasha replied.

“And putting it in future tense.”

Natasha smiled.

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

“How’s the twelfth of never, say a quarter ‘til not-gonna-happen?”

“What? Are you ashamed of me?” Clint asked, feigning offense. “Because when I accused Phil of being ashamed of me, he serenaded me on a public street and took me to Vincenzo’s for dinner.”

“I am ashamed of you, deeply, and I’m neither singing nor paying for lunch.”

“Or maybe you’re ashamed of him. Is he ugly? Like, hideously deformed with boils and the like?”

Natasha leveled her best ‘are you kidding’ gaze at Clint.

“No? You said you guys are monogamous, so he can’t be married. Unless he’s the worst husband ever,” Clint pondered aloud. “Is he twice your age?”

“I like older men,” Natasha replied.

“Oh. God. He’s twice your age.”

“Age is just a number.”

“You should date him!” Clint exclaimed. “He could totally use his senior citizen discount when he takes you out to dinner.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just for that, I’m ordering dessert.”

“Wait, is it Sitwell?”

“Ew, no. He’s not that much older than me and anyway are you no longer on a first name basis?”

“I’m going to start calling him Shitwell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unfamiliar with great music, this is the song Phil sings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwZNL7QVJjE Yes, he switched up the lyrics in one verse, he was nervous.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes on a collaborative mission with another agency. A piece of jewelry makes an appearance. Clint and Coulson have a conversation about love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look plot! And no porn! I figured watching Natasha talk about the mission would be boring, so I inserted it as a flashback. Relevant tags: violence, language (always with the language), attempted rape, Star Wars reference.

“Sir, MI6 has put in a request to borrow one of our agents,” Hill said, reading off a tablet. “I cross-referenced their desired characteristics with agents who are available during the anticipated timeframe of the mission and ranked them by suitability.”

“Whoever you think is most suitable will be fine,” Fury assured her.

“Fine, sign here,” she presented him with a piece of paper.

“And I want full debriefs on whatever it is.”

“Of course you do,” Hill muttered. 

“Anything else?”

“Agent Mitchell put in for twelve weeks of family and medical leave. He and his wife are adopting a two-year-old from China.”

“Paperwork?”

She handed it over. Fury glanced at it and signed his name. “Send them a congratulatory card.”

“Yes sir.”

***

“Alright, so,” Clint said, bouncing with excitement. “Apparently it’s traditional to get the best man a gift. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Natasha lied, not looking up from her bag.

“I have something for you and you aren’t getting it until you spill,” Clint replied. 

“I don’t know, I guess I just have a bad feeling about this mission.”

“You have more bad feelings than all six Star Wars movies. You’ll be fine.”

“The thing with the guy is over. I just have to tell him,” Natasha admitted.

“What? Why? Clint demanded. “A week ago you were the happiest I’ve ever known you and he was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I love him,” her voice broke.

“That is the worst possible reason to break up with someone,” Clint declared.

“He doesn’t love me.”

“That’s a better reason, I guess.” He frowned. “Want me to knock some sense into him?”

"I told him all along I didn't want him to love me. I can't be angry that he took me at my word."

"Are you sure? I mean about his feelings. Did he tell you?"

"I know."

"You're wrong," he argued.

Natasha shook her head. "I'm not."

"He loves you."

"You're only saying that because you love me."

"You have to come back for the wedding," Clint said. "I got you this." He held out a small black velvet box. 

Natasha eyed him suspiciously before taking it. "Oh." She opened it. "It's pretty." It was pretty, a small silver arrow on a delicate silver chain. 

"Wear it. Maybe it's lucky."

She handed it back to him and pulled her hair to the side. "Maybe you're lucky."

He clasped the necklace, smoothing the chain against her skin. “Just come home.”

***

Women," Clint huffed as he unwound his scarf. "Why do they have to be so frustrating?"

"You say that like I'm never frustrating. Like you're never frustrating," Phil replied. "Let's just acknowledge that Natasha is uniquely frustrating as an individual, not as a representative sample of her gender."

"Yeah, uniquely frustrating is a great description of Nat," Clint grumbled. "She's having a freak out, getting all paranoid and melodramatic and it pisses me off. "

"What's wrong?" Phil sounded genuinely concerned.

"She says she's in love."

"With the guy she's been f-fooling around with?"

"You can say 'fucking.' I think it's kind of hot when you're improper," Clint teased. 

"It loses its impact if I do it too often. Focus, Clint, we were talking about Natasha."

"Yes, with the guy she's been fooling around with. And she's convinced he doesn't feel the same, apparently because she told him not to."

"Because emotions are always easily controlled and subject to the rules of a given situation," Phil replied.

"Exactly."

"Like how I didn't develop feelings for you because of our professional relationship and how grossly inappropriate that would have been."

"Yeah, I definitely didn't ask to be assigned a different handler specifically so I could date you."

"You have to remember that Nat's good at compartmentalizing," Phil said. "It actually is foreign to her that emotions would seep in where she doesn't expect them. It's one of the things that has kept her alive and sane all these years."

"It's also disturbing and the reason she has no friends," Clint retorted. "Girlfriend could kill six men during dinner and still order dessert."

"You love that about her. I love that about her," Phil replied defensively. 

"But normal people find it off-putting," Clint argued. "Even Hill practically shits her pants when Tasha walks into a room. And Stark, Banner, Rogers, all our friends? They don't know enough about her to understand why they should be afraid of her."

"You're supposed to be her best friend," Phil scolded. "You make her sound like a monster."

"I think she's right but not for the reason she thinks. He doesn't love her because she won't let anyone know her enough to love her."

"Do you want to know what I think?" 

"Sure," Clint said. 

"I think you're jealous. You're afraid that if someone loves her as much as you do, she won't need you anymore." Phil paused to let his words sink in. "Guess what?"

"What?" Clint sulked. 

"I already do." 

"You're not a threat," Clint admitted.

"No one is." Phil put his hand on Clint’s shoulder. “You’re irreplaceable.”

“I don’t even know who this guy is, how do I know I can trust him with Tasha?”

“You have to trust her to make her own choices,” Phil counseled. 

“What if it’s a bad choice?”

“Then you’re there with a box of tissues and a pint of ice cream to help pick up the pieces.” 

“I think I’d prefer a shovel and an alibi,” Clint replied.

“Whatever she needs.”

***

“Director Fury, this is Director Baker.” 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We have an unfortunate situation on our hands. Our collaborative mission didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. 

“What happened?” He felt like he’d been punched in the gut and was grateful Baker couldn’t see his face over the phone line.

“Your Miss Romanov killed Agent Powell, the informant, Glynn, and both of Glynn’s bodyguards. Four men dead, none of the desired intel was recovered. As you can imagine, I’m rather displeased at this turn of events. I have a team bringing Miss Romanov in, she’ll remain in London until our investigation is concluded.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Fury began.

“I wasn’t asking permission,” Baker replied. “I am informing you of the status of the mission.”

“I’m sending one of my agents to oversee your investigation.”

“Would that be Miss Hill, it appears she was the one who recommended Romanov?” Baker kept his tone civil. 

“Phil Coulson,” Fury answered.

“C-O-L-E-“

“C-O-U-L-S-O-N.”

***

They had Natasha in an interrogation room, a bleak, sparsely furnished space. She was seated on the far side of a battered wooden table and Coulson frowned the moment he saw her. 

“Handcuffs? Really?”

“She killed four people, we thought she might be dangerous,” an agent named Jernigan explained. 

“Keys,” Agent Wagner demanded, holding out his hand. Jernigan handed them over huffily. “Thank you, Agent Jernigan, I think Agent Coulson and I can handle this matter.” He stared intently at the other agent until he began making awkward excuses about all the work he had to do and quickly walked away. 

“My apologies, Agent Romanov, Mr. Jernigan is just a bit overzealous at times.” Agent Wagner unlocked the handcuffs and whisked them into a pouch at the back of his belt, along with the keys. 

Coulson was disappointed to note that Natasha’s posture didn’t change, other than that her arms hung straight down instead of being pulled together at the wrists. 

“What’s he doing here?” she asked, glancing at Phil.

“It appears your director doesn’t trust us. He thinks we’re going to railroad you straight to the gallows or some such nonsense. Agent Coulson is representing SHIELD’s side of the investigation, as I’m representing MI6. Keeping everything balanced,” Wagner explained. “Now, we just need you to tell us what happened.”

***

“Just follow my lead and try not to fuck this up,” Powell growled at Natasha. She rolled her eyes. She fell in step beside him as they left the car. Their contact was a man called Glynn, approximately a mid-level player according to the intel, ready to share what he knew about his higher-ups. The first thing Natasha noticed was that he was fucking huge. She put his height at 6’7” or 6’8” with broad shoulders and a prominent gut. She observed him closely as they approached. He must have been athletic in his younger days; his arms were thick but soft. His body had gone to fat as he aged, his greasy hair thinning, he was likely in his mid to late fifties. He favored his left knee, an old injury that would account for the shift in his weight over time. He was flanked by two younger men, bodyguards, with at least 3 inches of height over the taller of the two. 

Glynn greeted Powell with a curt nod. “I thought you’d be alone.”

“So did I,” Powell replied. “Things changed.”

“Yeah, well, Ronny’s running late. We’re going to have some time to kill.” Glynn eyed Natasha. “She part of the deal?”

Natasha was ready for Glynn’s goons when they came in. She wasn’t ready for Powell’s fingers wrapping into her hair or his knife at her throat. 

“What the fuck?” she spat.

“Take it easy,” Powell hissed.

“Put her on her knees,” Glynn instructed, unzipping his pants. 

The thug who had grabbed Natasha's left arm casually broke her pinky. The unexpected flash of pain was just enough of a distraction as Powell drove his foot into the back of her right knee and the right-hand thug wrenched her arm upwards, leveraging backwards against the limit of her shoulder flexibility. Her knee buckled, her torso twisting forward to ease the strain on her shoulder and she knelt in the dirt.  
Glynn stepped forward and kicked her in the stomach. “We do this the easy way, and you might just live through it,” he snarled, kicking her again. He opened his fly and pulled out his semi-hard cock.

Natasha snorted. “Guess what they say about big hands is a myth.”

He hauled back and hit her across the cheek, hard enough to send her reeling back into Powell. The right side thug fumbled complete, but even Lefty adjusted his grip slightly. Natasha pulled her hands free and grabbed Powell’s knife, driving it into the side of his throat before peeling his fingers off the handle. One of the goons grabbed her from behind. She flipped the knife in her hand and stabbed into his leg, where his thigh met his hip. He dropped to the ground, clutching both hands over the wound. He would bleed to death in a few minutes; Natasha turned her focus to the other goon. 

She ducked under his reaching arms, grabbed handful of his shirt at the shoulder and swung herself behind him. Pressing the blade against his throat, she turned him towards Glynn. “Drop it.”

Glynn eyed her down the barrel of his .45 and barked out a harsh laugh. He started firing into the thug’s chest. Natasha shoved the man towards Glynn, stepping up his back as he fell. She kicked Glynn in the teeth and wrested the gun from his grip. She put two bullets in his head and kept the gun.

***

As she retold the events, Natasha had leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. Wagner glanced at her left hand, her pinky taped to her ring finger.

“We’ll have to make sure the evidence supports your version of events,” he explained.

“She doesn’t have to stay here while you do that,” Coulson countered. 

“I’ve known Powell a long time,” Wagner added. “And, sadly, there’s really nothing about him that would give me any cause to doubt you. So the B team picked you up at that point, you surrendered yourself to their custody without a fight.”

“I’ve been perfectly cooperative,” Romanov stated. 

“I appreciate that,” Wagner replied. “Makes my job easier. I’d have a hell of a time justifying to Baker why I let you leave if you hadn’t.”

“So she’s free to go?” Coulson clarified. 

“Let MI6 put you both up in a hotel for the night, I’ll push through the paperwork, the case’ll be closed in the morning.”

***


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of chapter six, in which Natasha dwells in dark places. Phil is wonderful and insightful. Relevant tags: BDSM, whipping, oral (both sides), pearl necklace, emotional wreckage, broken promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a heavy chapter and I personally am looking forward to the light fluffiness of WEDDING! in chapter eight. Seriously, this was hard to write, it just put me through the wringer.

Wagner drove them to a small hotel and secured a double occupancy room. Phil set his suitcase on the foot of one of the beds. “I didn’t have a chance to go to your apartment, but I brought you a few things,” he explained, offering Natasha a duffle bag. 

She dumped the bag onto the other bed. An assortment of new, travel-sized, toiletries spilled out, mixed with a pack of socks and one of Clint’s t-shirts. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.

“How are you?” Phil busied himself methodically unpacking. 

“Okay,” Natasha answered.

“Really?” He looked at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze.

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “I will be.”

“It’s okay that you’re not okay,” Phil said gently. He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks.” 

“Still think he doesn’t love you?”

She snapped to attention, staring at Phil. She studied his face for a long moment. “How long have you known?” There was no point in denying things to Phil.

“Clint told me you were seeing someone. Took about two minutes to figure out who.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“It’s none of my business,” he insisted.

“You don’t approve.”

Phil sighed. “You don’t need my approval. Neither of you do.”

“I care what you think,” Natasha prodded.

“You work for him,” Phil began bluntly. “This isn’t like me and Clint, there’s nowhere you can be reassigned that you won’t be under him, and please no jokes about being under, over or next to him in bed.”

Natasha chuckled. “I’ll save those for when Clint finds out.”

“Did either of you give even a moment’s thought to what would happen when, inevitably, people find out?”

“First, it isn’t inevitable. You’re the only one in nearly a year to figure it out and you haven’t even told your fiancé, so I think my secret is safe. Second,” she shrugged. “Half of SHIELD assumes I’m fucking my way to the top anyway; the other half hates me for unrelated reasons. I might as well get something out of the deal.”

“Well, by all means let’s gloss that over and move on to the age difference.”

“I already went through this when Clint was playing Guess Who with my love life. I like older men. Age is just a number. I have daddy issues. Pick one.”

“Where do you see yourself in fifteen years?” Phil asked solemnly.

“In a shallow grave in Outer Mongolia?” Natasha guessed. “Me outliving him isn’t really an issue.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“I thought you were too old for Clint," Natasha recollected. "Too uptight. Too by-the-book. I was wrong. You’re good for him, I like you and I like you with him.”

“You asked for my opinion,” Phil reminded her. “I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You deserve to be loved; it’s not up to me to decide by whom.”

“I’m going to shower, I have something in my eye,” Natasha declared.

Phil shook his head and resumed unpacking.

***

Nick stood in the doorway to his apartment and eyed Natasha. "What the hell happened?" He asked. 

"I didn't come here to talk," she answered hoarsely. There was a bruise under her eye already fading to yellow.

He began to close the door, but she stuck her hand out to stop it. 

"You'll get a full explanation tomorrow," Natasha promised. "I just can't right now."

"Does that mean you'll stay the night?"

"If that's what you want."

He stepped back to let her in. "What do you want?"

“I want you to punish me.”

“For what?” Nick demanded. “Killing those guys? Pissing off Baker? I don’t care. Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m confident that you had a good reason. That shiner’s only making me feel more strongly about it.”

“I put my own safety above the mission objective,” Natasha replied.

“I’m completely comfortable with that.”

“And if it was a SHIELD mission instead of MI6?” she asked.

“I think you’re capable of deciding what an acceptable level of risk is,” he answered diplomatically. 

“I think I made the wrong call.”

“Apparently Director Baker disagrees or he wouldn't have released you. Coulson also disagrees, but I knew he would.”

“I could’ve salvaged the mission,” Natasha insisted. “I should’ve let them rape me and tried to salvage the mission.”

Nick froze, staring at her. The sound of blood rushing in his ears threatened to drown out everything else. His mouth filled with a bitter, coppery taste. “No.” His voice came out a low growl through clenched teeth. 

“Then punish me for feeling this way.”

He forced a hard sigh, venting frustration along with his breath. “I don’t think I can beat self-esteem into you.”

“Ten years ago, I would’ve let it happen. No question. Five years ago? Flip a coin. Now? I feel more like ‘sorry I’m not sorry.’ Like I should feel guilty for killing them but I really don’t. So, you’re doing something for my self-preservation instinct.” 

“I need to know what they did to you.”

“Not much,” Natasha answered. “They grabbed my arms; Powell – who was supposed to be a good guy – put a knife to my throat. One of the thugs groped my ass. The informant we were supposed to meet exposed himself to me and threatened me. That’s it. Well, one of them broke my finger.”

He ran his hand down her arm, lifting her hand. “The little one?” he asked, looking at her taped digits.

“The pinky, yeah.”

He gently kissed the knuckle, just below the tape. “What do you need from me?”

“I still feel like I need to be punished,” she admitted. “And I’d like to have sex. It’s how I reassure myself that you still want me.”

“What, in your opinion, is an appropriate punishment?” he asked.

“I want you to hit me. I want it to hurt.”

Nick sighed again. He drew a deep breath. “Go back to the bedroom, get undressed completely. I’ll be there in a minute.”

"Thank you," Natasha said softly. She headed to his bedroom. 

Nick went into the bathroom. He urinated, washed his hands, brushed his teeth. He was killing time, trying to get into the right mindset for what he was about to do. 

Natasha was standing in the middle of the bedroom. She was naked, arms at her sides, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes downcast. There were bruises on her arms and one on her left leg, just barely below her knee. Nick walked around her slowly, inspecting her for other marks. When he was satisfied that her injuries didn't exceed her description of the events that caused them, he put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. "I deserve to be punished."

He guided her to a spot about three feet from the end of the bed. "Turn around, face the bed." She obeyed and he stood close behind her. "Do you trust me to mete out your punishment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Yes, Nick."

"Do you really think you were wrong to fight back?" His hand crept up the slope of her shoulder. 

"I don't know what to think," she confessed. 

"Do you think you are worth protecting?" He slipped his hand around to encircle her throat. There was no pressure in his grip, just the weight of his palm against her skin. He felt her swallow. 

"No," Natasha whispered. "Not really." She looked up and blinked back tears. How disappointed Clint and Phil would be to know she still felt that way. She inhaled sharply when he pulled his hand away and stepped back from her. 

"Keep your feet where they are. Put your hands on the footboard," he ordered. In order to comply, Natasha had to bend forward from the hips until her back was nearly parallel to the floor. 

Nick unbuckled his belt, slowly pulling it out of its loops. "You get four," he declared. "I want you to count them."

"Yes, Nick." The quiver was gone from her voice. She didn't sound scared or uncertain. 

He tucked the buckle into his palm, wrapped the strap one around his hand and took a deep breath. On the exhale, he swung.

The leather made a sharp sound as it connected with the point where her thighs met her buttocks. 

"один."

He nearly dropped the belt. His stomach clenched into a knot. The feeling was akin to vertigo. "In English," he managed to choke out. His voice dripped with disgust. 

Natasha winced, barely visibly. Shame burned in her cheeks. "Yes, Nick."

"Start over." His voice was cold, but he didn't sound so blatantly sickened.

"Yes, Nick."

She waited, heart in her throat. The longer he stood there, trying to regain his composure, the worse he felt. He forced himself to swing again.

"One."

Deep breaths.

"Two." Natasha’s voice hitched higher. 

He funneled his self-loathing into his arm.

"Three." They were getting more forceful. Natasha wanted to suggest that he keep going. Ten was a nice even number. 

The last blow came down hard, with a crack like thunder. 

"Four." It came out a low gasp. Her knees trembled. 

He was shaking as he let the belt fall to the floor. "We're not done yet," he said, undressing. She didn't move until he stepped up and physically moved her. He pulled her upright, turned her to face him, and kissed her. "Kneel."

She didn't hesitate. She never hesitated. Everything he'd ever asked of her was done without question. 

“Good. Make me hard.” He didn’t miss the way the tension went out of her shoulders at his single word of praise. Nick allowed himself to relax and enjoy her touch. She needed to be assured that he wanted her; he needed to convince himself that neither of them would hate him in the morning. As his body responded to her hands, she interspersed kisses with caresses. 

“That’s good,” he groaned as she took his dick into her mouth. 

Natasha focused completely on the task at hand. She relished his fingers raking lightly over her hair and his quiet moans of pleasure. This was familiar. This was safe. 

“Get on the bed,” he urged. 

“Yes, Nick.” Natasha slunk onto the bed, a smile playing around her lips and stretched out on her back. She arched her back, her hands reached for the headboard, and her legs sprawled out. Nick opened the drawer of his nightstand. “Skip it,” Natasha proclaimed.

He looked at her with a faint frown. “We talked about this.”

“And we’re both clean and we both know I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“And we both agreed to keep using them because you said you don’t like the messy feeling of semen inside you,” Nick recalled. 

“And now I’m telling you that we can make an exception. It’s your call.”

He shut the drawer. Natasha sucked her lower lip between her teeth. He crawled onto the bed and put his left hand over both of her wrists. He positioned himself between her legs and pushed into her deeply. Natasha’s eyes fell closed as she moaned. She made a mental note that asking Nick to fuck her like he had something to prove was a very good idea.

“Eyes on me,” he said. She looked up at him, his expression intense. “Good.” He fucked her hard and though he could tell she was enjoying it, she wasn’t going to climax before he did. He kept going as long as he could and at the last minute, he pulled out. He lunged forward and with two quick strokes, finished himself off, spilling cum onto her chest. 

“Call that a compromise,” he panted when he regained the ability to speak.

“Why?” Natasha’s skin began to feel too tight.

“Because I don’t like the taste,” he replied. He maneuvered back between her legs, releasing her wrists so he could use one hand to prop her hips up. He thrust three fingers into her and latched his mouth over her mound, working her clit with his tongue. Her fingers scrabbled at the sheets above her head, her moans getting higher in pitch, her breathing lost all control. Her orgasm seemed to wring the very marrow from her bones. 

The first thing she was aware of as she came slowly back to her senses was Nick’s thumb gently stroking her hairline, his fingers in her hair, his palm resting at her temple. 

Natasha’s eyes gradually focused on his concerned face. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and low. She nodded, suddenly aware of the rapidly cooling mess on her chest. 

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Nick suggested, using his free hand to push himself into a sitting position and gently sliding his other hand behind her shoulders to help her up. She nodded again and leaned against his side. He looped his arm around her and pulled her to her feet. 

“Okay,” Natasha said, her voice sounded strange. “I think I can walk.”

He kept his arm around her anyway, guiding them into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and let the water heat up. He let go of Natasha to get another towel from the small linen closet in his bathroom.

“Two please,” Natasha said.

Nick looked at her questioningly.

“I realize this is a foreign concept to you, but I prefer to use an extra towel specifically for my hair.”

He burst into laughter and grabbed another towel. He hung them sloppily on the rack and kissed her, still smiling. “You had me worried for a minute there.”

“Sorry. I just needed a little time to come back from that. That was…intense. Thank you.”

He stepped into the shower and offered her his hand. Under the steaming spray, he ran his hands over her arms, her shoulders. Neither of them spoke over the roar of the water. Nick did the bulk of the washing for both of them, but he let Natasha tackle her own hair. 

He put fresh sheets on the bed while she was combing and lamenting his lack of a hairdryer. She was in better spirits, teasing and complaining, but Nick was stoic. He turned the thermostat up two degrees and met Natasha in bed. 

“Sweet Dreams, Nat. See you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams, Nick.” She waited until his breathing evened out then waited just a bit more. He woke up alone.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the wedding. Phil and Clint get hitched, Clint sings, there is dancing and drinking and a fine time is had by all. For once, nothing bad happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also establishes that Clint is probably bisexual, having been briefly and disastrously married to Bobbi "Mockingbird" Morse at some point in the past. Side note: I HATE writing speeches. Writing wedding reception speeches for fictional characters is no exception.

Nick called. Natasha didn't answer. She didn't call back. She got a three day mission in Miami, tailing a person of interest. It was a softball meant to make up for the shitstorm with MI6. For once she found she didn't mind. She returned with good intel and a healthy bit of a tan.

There was a SHIELD standard issue sedan waiting to pick her up at the airport when she returned. She slid into the passenger seat. "Isn't playing chauffeur a bit beneath you?" She asked, eying Nick. 

"I wanted to talk to you," he explained. 

"Then talk."

"You said you would stay."

"I lied." She made it sound so simple.

"Why?"

"I didn't think I'd get what I wanted if I told you the truth," Natasha shrugged. 

"So it’s over," he said. “You’re done with me.” He held out some sliver of hope that she would argue with him. 

"I don't think this is what either of us wants anymore," Natasha answered diplomatically.

***  
“I’m going to throw up,” Clint declared, running the statement into one long word.

“Just breathe,” Natasha advised.

“I wasn’t this nervous when I married Bobbi.”

“And how long did that last?” Natasha managed to ask while applying her lipstick.

“The lack of nerves?” Clint joked.

“The marriage.”

“Fourteen months, two weeks and three days. From ‘I do’ to ‘I want a divorce’ in less than a year and a half.”

“You are nervous because you’re serious this time.”

“How many second chances do you think a person gets?” Clint asked earnestly.

“God, I hope it’s a lot,” Natasha replied. “This is right for you. You know that.”

“I don’t want to fuck it up.” He buried his face in his hands.

“You didn’t fuck up your marriage with Bobbi. She wasn’t right for you. Phil is right for you,” Natasha assured him. “Just make it down the aisle; you can pretend I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

“Because that will make me less nervous?”

“Because that will make you less likely to fuck up.”

Clint smiled. “Thanks, Tasha.”

“I’ve got to go line up.”

***

“Marriage,” the officiant began. “Marriage is what brings us together today. That blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream.” A handful of the guests began to chuckle. “This is an important day. This is a day on which Phil and Clint will exchange solemn vows, vows they will carry with them all the rest of their days. So while it is a time for rejoicing and celebrating, it is also a time of solemnity. All of us desire to love and to be loved. People will tell you that they desire love, as though love is a thing that can be sought and found and taken and kept. Love is a verb. An action verb. You make a decision, each day, to love your partner. There are many words for love and love takes many forms. Today, it takes the form of commitment, here publicly, in front of your friends and family, it is for you to define what your marriage will include. Phil, I think you won the coin toss.”

Phil smiled. “People sing songs above love. They write books, sonnets, operas, odes and poems about it. They make movies about love. Not me. I don’t have those kinds of talents. My life was dark. You made it bright. My life was cold. You made it warm. My life was plain. You made it fascinating. My life was lonely. You made me love you. You have a gift. You see the big picture. You see things from a different perspective. And you, you see something in me I wish I could. Instead, I’ll close my eyes and trust yours. If I have your love, I have everything. Because you have my love, I’ll give you everything. This is my vow. I will love you. I will trust you. I will respect you. I will cherish you. I will adore you. I will make the coffee if I wake up first. I will put your dirty socks into the hamper when you ‘miss’ even though you only ever miss on purpose. I will laugh at your jokes, even the painfully bad puns. I will rub that weird smelling stuff on your shoulder when you’re sore. I will sing you love songs. I will not keep score, even if I’m totally winning. I will be the wonderful man you think I am - patient, kind, and strong - because that is the man you deserve to be married to.”

“Clint?” the officiant prompted.

“For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It’s a person. And we are finally home. They say home is where your heart is and mine’s with you. Yours is with me. So, I vow to love you fiercely, in all your forms, now and forever. No matter what challenges may carry us apart, I will always find a way back to you. With all that I am and all that I have, come what may, you are mine and I am yours.”

“And the rings?” 

Nick handed Phil Clint’s ring and Natasha handed Clint Phil’s. 

“Phil, place the ring on Clint’s finger,” the officiant prompted.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

“Clint, place the ring on Phil’s finger.”

“With this, oops, I dropped it!” Clint exclaimed. Phil gasped. “Kidding. Kidding, it’s right here. With this ring, I thee wed.” 

Phil shook his head.

“You’re the one who promised to laugh at my jokes.”

“I now pronounce you legally wed,” the officiant proclaimed. “You may kiss the groom.”

Phil was still giving Clint that unamused look as he put his hand on the archer's jaw and pulled him in. The rest of the world faded into background noise as they kissed. When they broke from the kiss, Phil's face had softened. Clint didn’t even hear the rest of the officiant’s remarks; he was staring into Phil’s warm eyes. Then Phil was tugging gently at his hand, urging him back down the aisle. Everyone was smiling at him. Phil pulled his hand up above his head like a referee declaring a winner in a fight. 

***

The four of them patiently worked the receiving line, welcoming the guests to the reception. In lieu of the traditional table, Phil and Clint had opted to seat themselves with the Avengers and their dates. Steve was sitting next to an empty seat on one side. Darcy had seated herself next to Steve, which meant Thor had apparently brought two dates, because Jane was on her other side. Thor was between Bruce and Jane, Tony between Pepper and Bruce. Next to Pepper was a strikingly attractive older woman in a wine colored dress. Natasha thought she looked vaguely familiar and realized with an unsettled feeling that she was there as Nick’s date. She took the seat next to Steve, but immediately stood.

“I’m an odd choice to have speak at your wedding,” Natasha began by acknowledging. “I have a notoriously low opinion of love. When people say commitment, I think of asylums. But Clint is my oldest and dearest friend. So, I’ve tried to come up with something nice to say above love for his sake.” She cleared her throat. “The nice thing about Phil and Clint as a couple is that they are both my friends. I knew Phil well enough that I never had to give him a shovel talk. I knew he would never do anything to hurt Clint. Of course, with my reputation, it probably would’ve been redundant. They were friends first, which I’m told is the best way to do these things, and they fell in love. Watching this process has been a rare gift. Seeing them together, observing the ways that they express love for each other, is like watching the sun come out after a long, cold winter. It’s enough to melt even the most cynical of hearts.”

“I’m going to keep this brief,” Nick announced. “I’ve known Phil for a very long time, and Clint nearly as long. I’m not a real touchy-feely guy, but in trying to figure out what I wanted to say, I stumbled across a quote that I like very much. Antoine de Saint-Exupery said ‘Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.’ So keep a weather eye on that horizon.”

“Thank you both, for everything,” Clint said, smiling. “Ahem. I know it’s cheesy, but karaoke has kind of been our thing for a while now and I always say I’m not the one who suffers when I sing. So we’re doing something a little different for our first dance.” He beckoned Phil to the mic. Phil stood next to him while Clint fixed the microphone back in the stand. He shook his head when he heard the music start.

“Clint…”

Clint pulled Phil into his arms. “Oh. Why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes. Come on and come to me now. Don’t be ashamed to cry. Let me see you through, ‘cause I’ve seen the dark side too. When the night falls on you, you don’t know what to do, nothing you confess, could make me love you less. I’ll stand by you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you.”

Phil blinked back tears. 

“C’mon, baby, it’s your verse,” Clint whispered. Phil shook his head again. “So if you’re mad, get mad,” Clint continued. “Don’t hold it all inside. Come on and talk to me now. Hey, what you got to hide? I get angry too. Well I’m a lot like you. When you’re standing at the cross roads, and don’t know which road to choose, let me come along. ‘Cause even if you’re wrong, I’ll stand by you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you. Take me in, into your darkest hour. And I’ll never desert you. I’ll stand by you.” He pulled Phil in tighter. “And when the night falls on you, baby, you’re feeling all alone. You won’t be on your own. I’ll stand by you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you. Take me in, into your darkest hour. And I’ll never desert you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you.”

***

“Aren’t you going to introduce your date?” Natasha prompted. 

“Of course,” Nick replied. “This is Madeleine; she’s a very old friend.”

“Nicholas and I go way back,” Madeleine purred with a heavy French accent. “Give me enough of this champagne, I’ll tell you some stories.”

“Noted, no more champagne for Maddie,” Nick remarked.

“Noted, he said nothing about cocktails,” Natasha observed. 

“Oh, I like her, Nicholas. She’s spirited.”

“That’s one word for Natasha,” Nick muttered. “Alright, I’ll go around the table real quick for you. Natasha, Steve, Darcy - ”

Darcy looked surprised that he knew her name. 

“Jane, Thor, Bruce, Tony and Pepper.” 

“And are you all on the groom’s side or the…groom’s side?” Madeline asked.

“Both,” Steve answered first, mostly to prevent Tony from answering for the group. 

Clint arrived at the table, placing one hand each on Nick and Natasha’s shoulders. “You guys got to dance, come on.”

Her dress was nearly backless and Nick’s fingertips settled against her bare skin when he put his hand at her waist. 

“Madeleine seems nice,” Natasha remarked.

“She is nice,” Nick replied distractedly. He was trying not to focus on how much he’d missed touching Natasha. 

“I know it frustrates you not having answers,” she acknowledged. “I’m sorry I can’t –“

“Don’t,” he cut her off. “You don’t want to talk about us and for a change, neither do I.” 

The waltz seemed to last forever. 

***  
“We met in Morocco in nineteen seventy-was it six?”

“Seventy-two,” Fury corrected.

“God,” Madeleine sighed. “How time flies. We were not meant to be working together. Rather, both France and the Americans, and there was an Italian agent too, what was his name?”

“Rus-something,” Nick fumbled.

“Rustici, yes. We were all after the same man, an arms dealer from Scotland.”

“Why the Brits weren’t involved, I’ll never know,” Nick added.

“I think their man got caught out early,” Madeleine replied. “The fact that we were not allies did not stop Nicholas from acting when I was ambushed. I admit I was in over my head. He saved my life.”

“That sounds terribly romantic,” Clint mock-swooned.

“It was until she introduced me to her husband,” Nick replied. 

Madeleine chuckled. “It wasn’t romance,” she declared. “It was honor. You would’ve done the same for Rustici. The face that you were, and are, a man of honor might have played a part in my calling you after I found Jean in bed with that intern.” 

“That sounds like a much more interesting story,” Tony commented. “Can I get anyone anything from the bar?” He stood. “Pep?”

“My usual,” Pepper answered.

“Maddie?”

“Sidecar, s’il-vous-plait.”

“Bruce?”

Bruce shook his head.

“Natasha?” 

“One of whatever it’ll take to get the captain to dance,” she replied.

“I believe they call that ‘the whole bar’,” Steve joked. “I’m not a very good dancer, apparently rhythm isn’t something they could distill into the serum.”

“You have potential,” Natasha insisted. 

“If you can’t embarrass yourself in front of you friends, who can you embarrass yourself in front of?” Tony asked. 

Steve stood reluctantly and offered Natasha his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Tony vanished into the crowd as he made his way to the bar, but the crowd seemed to part for Steve and Natasha. 

“They make a very handsome couple,” Madeleine remarked, watching the tall blond soldier and the petite red-haired assassin take to the dance floor.

“I don’t think Steve is really Nat’s type,” Phil remarked. 

“You need to get over this fear of yours and ask Darcy to dance,” Natasha told Steve.

“What? Why?”

“Because Jane and Thor haven’t been to the table since dinner was served, she’s feeling like a third wheel. She’s not an agent or an Avenger, she feels left out. Be a gentleman.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said reflexively. 

***

“For a long time, I thought I’d never get married,” Phil admitted.

“Yeah, for a long time I thought you’d never get married either,” Clint agreed. “I’m kidding. Well, I’m not, but I didn’t picture myself getting married until I did. And I was terrible at it and once I was divorced, I figured it’d never happen again. Figured I was too much of a fuck-up for something like this.”

“And yet here we are.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Clint promised. “I won’t screw up this time.”

“Just beware of Asgardians bearing scepters,” Phil warned.

“Hey, that goes double for you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Phil assured him.

“How long do we have to stay at our own reception? I want to take you home and kiss that scar.” Clint ran his hand over the back of Phil’s jacket.

“We have to stay ‘til it’s over.”

Clint pouted.

“The scar will still be there.”

“I want to kiss you other places.”

“Those will also be there,” Phil replied firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pretty much wraps up the pre-"Captain America: the Winter Soldier" plot. Re-watch the movie, imagining Nick and Natasha having romantic feelings for each other that they aren't expressing or acting on. If you like, you can also imagine Clint and Phil on their honeymoon. I'm going to skip the movie, the next chapter will pick up some undetermined number of months later. For those of you who like Easter eggs, Natasha's trip to Miami is essentially a throwaway reference to the tv show "Burn Notice" and the Scottish Arms Dealer is a reference to G.I. Joe villain Destro. I amuse myself with these things.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint have their first married-couple fight, Steve can't catch a break and Natasha wins a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty dialogue heavy chapter and a bit of a filler, introducing things that will be important later but I feel it does drag a bit. Next chapter will pick up with the action and we'll go into plot advancement mode. This is just setting the table.

_4 Months after the aborted launch of Project Insight. Monday Morning._

"You going to work today?"

"Yes," Phil replied, carefully keeping his voice level.

"How much longer?" Clint needled.

"Can we please not have this fight every morning?"

"Who's fighting? I'm just asking a question."

"As long as it takes to make things right," Phil answered. "Same as the last time you asked."

"It's never going to be right," Clint insisted.

"Not if everyone gives up." Phil tightened his tie. "I love you. I'm going to work."

"I packed you a lunch."

Phil sighed, his expression softening. 

“It’s not safe for you there anymore.” Clint turned away, tucking a napkin into the paper bag with the rest of Phil’s lunch. 

“There are still a lot of good people at SHIELD.”

“There are a lot of good people at Stark Industries too, just saying.” Clint held out the bag. Phil kissed him as he took it.

“Thanks for the lunch.”

“I love you too.”

***

“You’re going to be late for work,” Pepper called from the kitchen.

“Mm-gph-rrm-b,” Tony growled from the safety of his bed.

“The CEO is going to be terribly disappointed in your performance,” She sang out. “It might reflect badly on your next review.”

Still grumbling, he kicked off the covers and stumbled into the kitchen in his underwear. “You aren’t ready for work either, you need pants. Pretty sure our dress code requires pants.”

“With legs like those? You could make an exception,” Bruce remarked. 

Tony came over for a closer look.

“Down boy,” Pepper swatted his hand away from her backside.

“That’s one of Bruce’s shirts,” Tony declared.

“He had dibs on the shower. I’m going to get ready now,” Pepper explained. “We each got a bedroom, despite the fact that we all sleep in yours 90% of the time, but there’s only one shower? Who designed this place?”

“You had plenty of opportunity for input,” Tony replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Can I join you in that shower?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “We’re getting clean, not dirty.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Bruce offered.

Pepper smiled fondly and kissed him. “This is why you’re the good boyfriend.”

“What am I?” Tony asked, as he headed towards the bathroom.

“The bad one.”

Tony shot Bruce a look. “Maybe don’t start cooking just yet.”

***  
“I can’t quite believe Barton is working for Stark,” Steve remarked as he and Sam got out of the car in the parking lot of Stark Industries’ headquarters. 

“Stark doesn’t seem like such a bad guy,” Sam replied. 

“He’s not such a great guy either,” Steve groused. He led the way into the building. “Ma’am, I’m here to see Mr. Barton,” he explained to a young lady at the front desk. 

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“Um, no. Could you just tell him it’s Captain Rogers, I’m sure he’ll…”

The receptionist’s withering look silenced him. 

“How do I get an appointment?” Steve asked. 

“Ideally, you call, but you talk to me either way. Let me check his schedule.” She turned her attention to her computer. 

Steve gave Sam an apologetic shrug. 

“I assume it’s urgent?” she asked.

“I’m actually just very poor at planning ahead,” Steve admitted. 

She looked at him to see if he was serious and immediately smiled at him. “You must be a friend.”

“Yes.”

“I bet you hear this a lot but you’re kinda cute. Let me call up.” 

Steve blushed so hard his ears turned pink.

“Mr. Barton? Can I put a 3:15 on your schedule. I know that’s in six minutes. It’s a Captain Rogers.” She rolled her eyes at his response. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to Steve. “He’ll see you at 3:15, sign in on the sheet to your left. Your friend too,” she indicated Sam. “Take these, go to floor four. Laci is the receptionist there; she’ll point you to the right room.” She handed Steve a pair of lanyards with the word VISITOR in large white letters.

“Thank you.”

***

“The number you gave me has been disconnected,” Steve began.

“Sorry about that, I’ll get you the new number,” Clint promised. 

“It’s not a big deal, except that’s why I’m here bothering you at working instead of calling or sending a text message.”

Clint gave him a look that communicated he’d somehow said something stupid. Steve frowned. 

“Texting, Steve. Everybody calls it texting. You don’t send a text message, you just text. So what’s up?”

“Well, Romanoff’s number is also disconnected,” Steve replied.

“That’s not a coincidence.”

“I need to get a hold of her; I thought you might be able to help.”

“What’s this about?” Clint demanded.

“Bucky.”

“Your dead friend?”

“He’s not dead. And Natasha’s the only person who’s been able to tell me anything at all about what happened after he fell off that train. I was hoping she’d have some additional insights.” 

“God dammit.”

Steve frowned, deep lines forming between his eyebrows. 

Clint ignored him and picked up his phone. 

“Are you calling her?” Steve asked hopefully.

“No. I’m texting her, because this isn’t nineteen forty-five.”  
“He’s making a lot of progress on the technology thing,” Sam offered in Steve’s defense. 

“Great, is he up to eight-tracks yet?”

“We skipped those,” Sam replied. 

“Shit,” Clint muttered, glancing at his phone.

“She’s not around?” Steve asked.

“I owe her dinner and she wants sushi.”

“Let me tag along and I’ll treat,” Steve offered. 

“Seriously?”

Steve nodded earnestly. 

“Drinks?”

“I’m between jobs, one drink for each of you.”

“You’d be better off buying two for Romanoff,” Clint advised. “But you’ve got a deal.”

***

Steve waited until they’d started eating and, more importantly, until Natasha had finished her drink before broaching the subject. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Not here,” she replied abruptly. 

“It’s important,” Steve insisted.

“This is a public place. Clint’s been bugging me to come check out the newly refurbished tower. We can talk there.”

“Seriously?” Clint interjected. “I beg and plead and then he shows up and suddenly it’s your idea to come to the tower?”

“I figured inviting him back to my place might be a bit forward.”

An hour later, the four of them settled in to one of the four shared rec rooms Tony had included in the tower. 

“We’ve hit six Hydra bases in the last four months, plus two facilities that were abandoned and I’m no closer to finding Bucky,” Steve admitted. “You, you gave him a name, a reputation, there must be something…”

“Do you know why they call him the Winter Soldier?” Natasha asked. 

Steve shook his head. 

“He’s kept cryogenically frozen between missions. It prevents his body from aging and seems to have a stabilizing effect on his mind, making him easier to control. There are only a handful of sites that would have the technology needed to freeze and store him,” Natasha explained. She pulled out her tablet. “Three, okay four SHIELD facilities, throw in another four or five Hydra bases as variables, but the cryo tanks are a big power draw, it’ll show up on usage grids unless they have a dedicated generator.”

“How do you know so much about this guy?” Sam asked.

“Your last encounter was more an exchange of bullets than pleasantries,” Steve remarked. “But that wasn’t your first encounter with him, was it?”

Natasha sighed. “Before I worked for SHIELD, he and I worked for the same people.”

“Hydra,” Steve supplied.

“That wasn’t what they called themselves but, probably, yes,” she answered. “Anyway, we worked pretty closely together. I thought he was dead when I…struck out on my own. You want my help?”

“You’d be willing to come with us?” Steve asked. 

“You sure?” Clint added. 

“I think this is something I should see through to the end.”

***


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Steve and Natasha find Bucky and a bonus. Now, if they can just make their escape...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers, no warnings. Gehorsam is google-German for "obedience". I wonder how many red flags I raise when I google "English to German, obedience" "hypothermia" and "drowning first aid" all in one week.

“Two down,” Steve grimaced. “I feel like we’re running out of places to look.”

Natasha was carefully working a shard of glass out of his calf. “We’re not,” she assured him.

“You said four SHIELD bases, and an unknown quantity of Hydra bases we don’t have locations on,” Sam pointed out. “So we’ve checked half of your known possibilities.”

“There are always more possibilities, get me more light.” 

Sam dug a flashlight out of his bag and shone it at Steve’s leg. “You think we should take him to a doctor?”

“Get the glass out, the serum will do the rest,” Steve answered.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Natasha muttered. “There.” Her phone chimed as she swabbed the wound with rubbing alcohol. “Perfect timing, as per usual.”

“What’s that?”

“Another possibility. Coulson’s found us a Hydra base.” 

“You can tell that without reading the text?” Sam asked dubiously. 

“It’s a unique ringtone.” Natasha smirked as Sam rolled his eyes. “He has a dedicated work phone; he only messages me from that number if it’s related to a mission.”

“Thanks,” Steve said as Natasha finished bandaging his leg.

“Don’t mention it.” She packed up the first aid kit and grabbed her phone. She left to put the kit away and Sam leaned in close to Steve.

“You’re a good guy, Rogers,” he stated.

“But?” Steve prompted.

“You trust everybody.” Sam kept eyeing the door Natasha had vanished through.

“Natasha’s earned it.”

“You didn’t read those files SHIELD had on her, did you?”

Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who she was or what she did. All that matters is who she is now and what she’s doing. She’s helping and we need her help.”

Natasha was frowning when she walked back in. “Do either of you know Finnish?”

***

“Why is she driving?” Sam enquired.

“Do you have a Finnish driving license?” Natasha retorted.

“Do you?” Steve was genuinely curious.

“Yes. Well, it’s fake,” Natasha admitted, “but it’s a good fake.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t get pulled over.”

“You should think about having Bruce and Tony build a cryogenic chamber for the tower,” Natasha suggested, changing the subject.

“No,” Steve’s response was immediate and firm.

“Could they do that?” Sam asked.

“Well, SHIELD had schematics and Stark accessed the files…” Natasha began.

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Just act surprised and say thanks when Tony gives you your Christmas present, that’s all I’m saying.”

Her phone beeped.

“We’re getting close,” Steve observed. “Let’s find a good place to hide the car.”

Natasha eased the SUV off the pavement and set off across the underbrush. “This is an underground facility, one way in and out, very high security.”

“I love a challenge,” Sam remarked. 

“Seems like such a gamble when there’s no guarantee that Bucky’s even there,” Steve said grimly. 

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Alright, let’s backtrack to the road and cover our tracks.” Natasha unbuckled her seatbelt and looked at Sam. “Here.” She tossed him the keys. “You can drive on our way out.” She exited the SUV.

Sam looked from the keys to Steve and back to the keys. “I wasn’t asking to drive.”

“You pissed her off.”

“And driving is my punishment?”

“She’s asking you to prove that you could do any better.” Steve grinned at him. “My sympathies.”

Sam grimaced and got out of the vehicle. “Hey, look, I didn’t mean anything by asking about you driving.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Natasha responded without looking at him. She was busy carefully arranging the grass they’d driven over to hide the tire tracks. 

“It’s just for months there it was just me and Rogers. Now out of nowhere, you’re calling the shots.”

“I’m not calling the shots,” Natasha corrected. “If I were, we’d be in New York, at the Tower, raiding Stark’s bar and trading war stories. This is only going to end with Steve’s heart broken, but he won’t believe it until it happens. So we press on.”

“You really don’t think he can be saved?” Steve sounded both hurt and defensive.

“I don’t think we can save him.”

“Then who can?” Sam asked.

“He’s going to have to save himself.”

“Then maybe we can help,” Steve insisted. “You want to know what I think?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway,” Natasha said.

“I think he reminds you of a past you’d rather forget. I think your reluctance is purely selfish, it has nothing to do with Bucky.”

“First we find him. Then you find out the truth,” Natasha declared.

“About him or about you?” Steve asked as Natasha began to walk away.

She laughed in response. “About him.”

***

“Geez, think it’s cold enough?” Sam remarked, tugging his hat down further over his ears. 

“And it’s starting to snow,” Steve added.

“We’re here.” Natasha pointed to a small cabin nestled in the wilderness. She pulled out a pair of binoculars and studied the building. “I can see one guard through the window.”

“Plan?”

“I’ll distract him, you get inside.” 

“This is your high security Hydra base? One guard in a cabin?” Sam muttered. 

Natasha was already on her way. She kicked over a garbage can and vanished behind the corner of the cabin. Seconds later, the door opened and a man came out, looking around in confusion. He spotted the trash can and shook his head. The moment he began to move away from the door and towards the garbage, Steve sprinted for the cabin. 

There was another guard inside. Standing over the small wooden table, he looked up guiltily and quickly dropped the playing cards in his hand when Steve burst in. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked. 

The man responded in Finnish. He didn’t get an opportunity to complete his sentence before Steve’s shield hit him in the head, knocking him out. 

“They’re Hydra. They’re bad guys. Does it really surprise you that he’d cheat at cards?” Sam remarked. 

“See? High security is two guys playing cards in a cabin,” Natasha said with a chuckle. She scanned the floor and knelt to knock on it. 

“Hollow,” Steve observed.  
Natasha stuck her finger into a knot hole in the wooden floor boards and found a latch. There was a muffled click and the panels of the floor slid to one side. They worked their way down into the base, taking out the Hydra agents as they encountered them without raising an alarm. The first four rooms proved to be empty. Natasha continued picking one lock after another. 

“Anything?” Steve asked over his shoulder as the fifth door opened. 

Natasha gasped. Steve looked down at her, then up into the dimly lit room.

“Is that?”

“Fury.” She moved into the room cautiously. “We have to get him out of here.”

“Is he even alive?” Sam asked.

“After the last time he died, I’m not taking any chances.” Natasha began working on the shackles that bound the former director. Steve stepped in to check his pulse. 

“He’s alive.”

Natasha moved back to allow Steve to pick up Fury. “Three more rooms.”

“You want to check the rest?”

“Just because Fury’s here doesn’t mean Bucky isn’t.”

“Make it fast,” Steve requested. 

Two more empty rooms. Steve seemed anxious and disheartened.

“Hey, stuff’s always in the last place you look,” Sam said. 

“Eureka,” Natasha announced. 

Seeing Bucky in the cryogenic chamber was a punch in the gut. He looked…dead. “How do we get him out?”

“It’ll take…four minutes to defrost,” Natasha answered, turning knobs and flipping switches on the control panel.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Steve demanded.

“Assuming they haven’t changed anything in the last fifteen years, yes.” The chamber hissed and a timer began counting down. 

“Four minutes,” Sam read. “Guess some things never change.”

“What happens when he comes out?”

“He’ll be pliant. No memories, no will of his own. You say the trigger word, then you can give him any command you like. He’ll take orders from whoever says the word, until the next time he’s put into a freeze,” Natasha said.

“What’s the word?”

“Gehorsam.”

“Gehorsam,” Steve repeated. “Is that German?”

“You going to say it?” Natasha asked.

“I will.”

“You might want to work on your accent in the next three and a half minutes.”

She coached him while Sam watched the hallway for activity. There was a distinct click as the chamber unlatched. Sam stepped in to help pry the door open. Steve couldn’t bring himself to touch it. 

Bucky stared at them with vacant eyes.

“Gehorsam,” Steve said firmly. Bucky’s attention snapped to Steve. “Help us get out of here.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement. 

“These,” Steve gestured to Sam and Natasha. “Are our allies. Protect them.”

Bucky’s gaze fixated on each of them in turn and he nodded again. 

“Let’s go.” 

It was Steve giving the orders from there out. They’d taken out most of the agents on their way in, and it didn’t seem that anyone had summoned backup. 

“We’ll head back to town, we can arrange transport to the States from there,” Steve decided. He loaded Fury into the back seat.

“Nick’s in bad shape; I don’t know that he’s going to be able to travel. We should find medical treatment here,” Natasha said, sliding in next to Fury. “I’ll stay with him if you want to get Bucky home.”

Sam pressed the keys into Steve’s hand. He sat in back with Natasha and Fury. Steve pointed Bucky toward the passenger seat.

“We should stick together,” Steve argued as he buckled his seat belt. “There’s still Hydra forces around here, it won’t be long before they discover what happened to their base. Could get very dangerous.”

“There’s an old safe house north of here,” Natasha suggested.

“A SHIELD safe house that Hydra doesn’t know about?” Steve asked. “Seems unlikely.”

“No… it was private. A place we used to go to get away.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me,” Natasha answered. “And him.” She nodded to Bucky. 

“If the KGB was affiliated with Hydra…” Steve began.

“That’s who we were getting away from.”

“Why?” Steve asked.

“And it wasn’t the KGB. They called themselves the Red Room.” 

“North, alright, I need to turn around,” Steve said. He gave up on trying to get any more information out of Natasha. He figured most of it wasn’t true anyway.

Natasha reached over and took Nick’s hand, holding it in her lap, her fingers pressed against the pulse point in his wrist. 

“Snow’s getting worse,” Steve observed. As they came around a curve in the road, a moose stepped onto the road. Steve swerved and the SUV began to slide. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and tried to regain control. Sam braced himself against the back of Bucky’s seat. There was a loud thunk as they went off the road. They came to stop in a ditch, the SUV laying on its side.

“Shit.” Sam was the first to speak.

“Is everybody okay?” Steve asked.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Black ice and a moose. I’m pretty sure it was a moose,” Steve explained. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha grunted. 

“Bucky? You okay?”

“Tell him to answer to Bucky,” Natasha instructed. “He doesn’t know that’s him.”

“You, you’re Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends call you Bucky,” Steve explained. “Are you hurt?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t…don’t call me sir. I’m Steve.” His eyes searched Bucky’s face for any flicker of recognition, but he found nothing.

“Let’s see if we can get back on the road.” Steve unbuckled his seat belt. They were wedged passenger side up. “Go ahead and get out, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded stoically. He was so different from the man Steve remembered. He threw the door open, unbuckled his seat belt and pulled himself out. The Winter Soldier knelt on the rear door and offered Steve his hand. Maybe he wasn’t so different. Steve smiled a little as he took his friend’s hand.

“How’s Fury?” Sam asked.

“The accident doesn’t seem to have made things any worse,” Natasha answered. She checked his pulse. “He’s fading though. I’ll see if I can get some help.”

Sam unbuckled his seat belt and pushed open his door. With a bit of coordinated effort, he hauled himself out. 

“I think one of you should help get Fury out,” Sam said. 

“Bad news: the axel’s broken,” Steve proclaimed, sticking his head back in to talk to Natasha. “How far is this safe house? Can we walk it?”

“It’s going to be risky in this weather, but staying here is riskier. Twelve miles by road, we can probably shave off a couple walking as the crow flies.”

“That’s not so bad,” Steve said.

“Of course, if we don’t make it by sunset, we’re almost guaranteed to freeze to death,” Natasha added.

“Fun,” Sam muttered.

“You can carry him that far?” Natasha asked Steve, gesturing to Fury.

“No problem,” Steve assured her. He offered her a hand and she used it to pull herself out. “Bucky, I’m going to lift him up to you, just pull him out gently.”

They eased Fury’s limp body out of the SUV. Natasha was already on the phone.

“Good call on that base,” she said in a chipper tone.

“You found him?” Phil answered, surprise in his voice.

“I need a doctor in the area we can trust.” The connection wasn’t great, she had to raise her voice to be sure Phil was hearing her.

“There used to be a SHIELD facility not too far south of there.”

“Someone we can Trust,” Natasha reiterated.

“Let me do some digging. Are you hurt?”

“No, but we do have a man down, it’s pretty serious.”

“Captain Rogers?” Phil’s concern was so real and so immediate, Natasha rolled her eyes.

“He’s fine. It’s…we found someone else in the base.”

“Someone else?”

“I can’t chat right now, Coulson. I’ll send you our coordinates; I need a doctor tonight and a ride out of here tomorrow.”

“Dr. Stefan Reinders,” Phil replied. “He retired about three years ago, but he still lives in that area. I’ll give him a call.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” She looked at the others. “We ready to go?”

***

Despite his gloves and boots, Sam couldn't feel his fingers or his toes. He was also beginning to feel like the only mere mortal in the group. Bucky didn't seem to notice the cold. His default facial expression was somewhere between confusion and apathy and he was more interested in wandering towards the woods. He was tracking rabbits with his eyes, then perking up and trotting back to the group whenever Steve called his name. He had taken off his coat and wrapped it around Fury, who was also wearing Natasha's hat. Natasha's nose and cheeks were pink, but she wasn't acting like she felt the cold either. 

The snow was falling thicker and thicker. Natasha kept checking the compass on her phone to make sure they were heading the right direction. The wind whipped the snowflakes into their faces, stinging exposed skin. 

"Buck? Come back this way," Steve called out. "Bucky!" 

Bucky vanished right in front of his eyes. It took a full second for Steve to realize what had happened. He'd dropped out of sight.

"Stay!" Natasha yelled, stripping off her coat as she ran. She slid like a ballplayer into home plate and right into the hole in the ice where Bucky had disappeared. Steve set Fury in the snow and Sam put a gentle hand on the super soldier's arm.

"You going into that lake is not going to make this better," Sam said firmly. 

Steve didn't take his eyes off the hole. "Where are they?"

The cold water hit Natasha like a wall at 50 miles per hour. Though she’d taken a deep breath before diving in, it was hard not to let the wind be knocked out of her by the force of it. It was dark under the ice, the water like smoked quartz. It stung her eyes when she opened them, but she caught a glimpse of light gleaming off metal and she swam for it. 

The cold was beginning to turn from pain to numb. Her lungs burned. Her sinuses hated her. Bucky must’ve sunk like a stone, she couldn’t seem to swim fast enough to catch that glimmer that she was certain was his arm. 

The howling wind was drowned out by the hammer of Steve’s heart. He forgot to breathe. The swirling snow reminded him of the static on the tv set. The water moved. It was just the wind, bringing waves across the exposed surface. Seconds felt like centuries. Millennia passed. Natasha surfaced, gasping for air. She pulled Bucky up, one arm looped under his armpit and across his chest to keep his head above water. Her free hand scrabbled at the ice. 

Steve started to move forward but Sam pulled back on his arm. “Stay,” he reminded Steve. “I’m lighter.” Sam laid down on the ice on his belly and began inching towards the hole. Steve watched, rooted to the ground. Bucky and Natasha went under again. He held his breath. 

Sam got close enough the hole in the ice to reach them. Natasha popped up for a second, took in a quick breath, and disappeared under the surface of the water. She wrapped her arm around Bucky’s hips and swam downward. The water wasn’t that deep here. She found the bottom and launched up, towards the dim grey light of the sky, with all the force she could muster. 

Bucky sprang out of the water like a jack-in-the-box and Sam grabbed a hold of him. He got him by the arm and pulled, as quickly as possible. He got Bucky entirely out of the water and, as a bonus, Natasha was still clinging to the assassin. She pulled herself the rest of the way out. 

“Got him?” she panted.

“Yeah, I got this.” Sam began crawling back towards Steve, dragging Bucky’s heavy, sodden form. They got close enough to the edge of the lake that Sam felt comfortable standing up and Steve was right there, taking Bucky from him and laying him in the snow.

“He’s not breathing.”

“He’s not dead until he’s warm and dead,” Sam retorted. He nudged Steve aside and began chest compressions. 

“How much further to the safe house?” Steve asked.

Natasha didn’t answer. She was laying at the edge of the lake, her back to Steve.

“Natasha?” Steve called. 

She didn’t respond. Steve looked to Sam, who seemed to have taken over with Bucky. 

“Natasha?” Steve repeated. He walked over and knelt down, gently rolling her onto her back. 

“You came back,” she said, her voice soft. Her eyes fluttered closed. 

“Nat?”

“Yasha…” she whispered as she drifted off.


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the safe house, but how safe are they?

Steve pulled out his phone. 

"He-hello?" Coulson's voice sounded hesitant.

"I need those coordinates Natasha just sent you."

"What happened?" All reservation vanished. It was the most commanding he'd ever sounded while talking to Steve.

"I've got two cases of hypothermia and a man who's been tortured three-quarters of the way to death. I need shelter."

"Check your texts. Call me when you get there." There was a brief pause. "Please."

"Thanks. I owe you one."

He looked down at his phone. "Okay, Sam, we're back in business. Do you think you can carry Fury?"

"How far?" Sam asked. 

Steve fiddled with the phone. "Two miles, give or take?"

"I'll give it my best. What about the two of them?"

Steve hoisted Bucky onto his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Help me get her on the other shoulder."

"You're going to carry both of them?" 

"Holding on to them is going to more of a problem than the weight," Steve assured him. The serum had certainly changed things. Sam lifted Natasha as high as he could and Steve hefted her onto his left shoulder. "That does wonders for my balance," Steve groused. 

Sam picked up Fury, slinging him across his back in much the same fashion. As he followed Steve through the snow, he was increasingly impressed, not just with the super soldier's strength, but with his endurance. As the snow got deeper, trudging through it was exhausting. Sam was beginning to doubt himself when a house came into view. 

"That must be it."

It didn't look like much: an older, slightly run down, two-story cabin in the woods. Of course, the Hydra base they'd come from hadn't looked like much from the outside. "Door's locked," Steve observed, rattling the knob. "Let me put these two down for a sec."

Sam settled Fury on the snow and took Natasha's weight off Steve's shoulder. Steve laid Bucky next to Fury and took off his gloves. He grabbed the doorknob tightly and twisted as hard as he could. Some mechanism inside gave way and he pushed the door open. "Stay here, I'm going to sweep the place real quick," he instructed, pulling his shield off his back. 

The place was dark, eerily quiet with the walls muffling the wind outside. It was cold and still. The main floor had a living room, a kitchen and a half bath. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a full bathroom. No signs of life. He pulled out his flashlight and headed to the basement. After making sure it was similarly deserted, he set down his shield and began to inspect the generator. It growled, ursine, and chugged to life. He checked the fuse box and found the main water shutoff. Grabbing his shield, he headed back out to Sam.

"First good news all day. Everything checks out, it looks safe. I started the generator, power and water are running. Let's get them inside."

They laid out their friends on the living room floor to start. "This place has been maintained," Sam observed. "But it'll take a while to warm up, let's see if we can get a fire going." He picked up a stick of firewood from a stack next to the fireplace. "And we're going to have to get them out of those wet clothes." 

"There's a wood burning stove too," Steve said. "I'll start that up." 

Once both fires were going, Steve carried Bucky upstairs to one of the bedrooms. He stripped him to his briefs on the floor so he wouldn't get the blankets wet and tucked him in. He made sure the vents were open so the warm air could get up into the bedroom. He came downstairs to find Sam moving the couch.

"Need a hand?"

"I just wanted it closer to the fireplace. I figured we could put her here, she'll warm up pretty fast."

Steve nodded. "We still need to take her clothes off."

"Feel free, I like my life."

"I was going to take Fury to the other bedroom upstairs," Steve replied. "Unless you think you can carry him up?"

"I thought you were supposed to be a hero," Sam teased. "Are there extra blankets?"

"In a closet, I'll bring them down." Steve picked up Fury, the man did not look good. His skin was ashen, his eyes sunken. "I hope that doctor can find this place."

When he came downstairs again, with three thick blankets in his arms, Natasha was laying on the couch in her bra and panties. 

Sam took the blankets and quickly covered her. 

"She'd rather not freeze to death," Steve insisted. 

A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation. Steve picked up his shield, he nodded to Sam. 

Sam nodded back, drew his pistol and took up a position across from the door. 

A very old man in a very heavy coat stood on the stoop. "You must be Coulson’s friends. Did someone call for a doctor?"

The men relaxed their positions. "Dr. Reinders," Steve said warmly. 

"Captain Rogers, I presume.”

"We've got three people hurt, shoot I have to call Coulson," Steve began. "Sam, can you show him?"

"I think the two upstairs are worst off," Sam said. "This way." He gestured to the staircase and followed the doctor up. 

Steve sat down at the kitchen table. "Hi."

"You made it?"

"We did," Steve affirmed. "Bucky fell into a frozen over lake. Natasha fished him out. The doctor just showed up, we're trying to get them thawed out."

"Dr. Reinders is there?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed. "I'd actually like to be there when he checks over Bucky." 

"Steve, I'm going to have to call you back."

***

Both Bucky and Natasha checked out and the doctor advised Sam and Steve to keep them bundled in blankets and keep checking on them. Steve headed back to the kitchen while Sam took the doctor in to examine Fury. Sam was right about the house being maintained. There wasn’t a lot of food, but nothing was expired. Steve found a pan and started heating up some chicken broth. 

“Hello?” A very timid, frightened sounding voice called out from the living room. Steve went in, half-expecting to see a stranger in the doorway. He only found Natasha, sitting upright on the couch. 

“You feel up to drinking something? The doctor said to start warm liquids as soon as you woke up,” Steve said. 

She stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion. “You found the safe house.”

“I called Coulson and had him send me the coordinates. Bucky’s upstairs, he’s doing well.”

“And Fury?”

“Also upstairs, the doctor is with him now.”

“Where are my clothes?” Natasha asked, slowly regaining her sense of what was going on. 

“Oh, I hung them by the stove; I thought they’d dry faster there. I can check on them while I’m getting your soup.”

After a moment’s consideration, he brought the clothes first. It gave Natasha a few moments to get dressed while Steve ladled a bit of soup into a bowl and got a spoon. He puttered around the kitchen for a little longer and glanced into the living room before he entered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, handing her the bowl.

“Like I’ll never be warm again.” 

“You will be,” Steve promised. “I should check on Bucky, he was still unconscious last I looked.”

“Go. I’m fine here.”

Bucky was still out cold. Steve touched his shoulder. Bucky’s skin still felt cool and clammy. Steve frowned. He crossed the hall and poked his head in to the other bedroom. 

“I’m going to stay with Bucky for a while, just knock if you need me. Natasha’s awake.”

“Sure,” Sam said, waving him off.

Steve pulled the door shut as he returned to the bedroom and latched it. He sat at the edge of the bed to take off his boots and strip off his shirt. He crawled under the blankets and pressed his chest to Bucky’s back, trying to will the warmth from his body into that of his friend. 

***

“He’s very badly hurt,” the doctor said quietly. “I would guess that he is bleeding internally. A slow leak probably, likely from blunt force trauma. But he has already lost a great deal of blood externally as well. I cannot perform the surgery to save him without the ability to transfuse more blood.”

“What do you need?” Sam asked.

“I did not know what I was walking into,” Dr. Reinders explained. “I brought as much equipment as I could think of, but I do not have blood on hand.”

“I’m O neg,” Natasha said. “Take as much as you need.”

“You were half dead when I got here, I do not think-“

“Trust me,” Sam interjected. “It’s not worth arguing with her.”

The doctor frowned seriously at Natasha. “I will make you a deal. I have proposition. If you can walk up those stairs under your own power, I will accept that you are strong enough to survive donating.”

Natasha set her bowl on the end table and took a deep breath. She stood up, wobbled a little, but stayed on her feet. “Sam, you might want to check on Steve’s phone. I think he left it in the kitchen and it’s been going off.”

Sam watched with interest to see if she would actually make it up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised when she did. He stretched out on the recently vacated couch, exhausted. 

***

Sam had no concept of how much time had passed, but a persistent buzzing sound woke him. “Dammit, Rogers, stop leaving your phone places,” he muttered. The fire had died down considerably, he observed, but wasn’t completely out. He forced himself to get up and wander into the kitchen to retrieve the phone.

The most recent text was from Barton. “Weather is shitty, can’t land near you. Will get as close as possible and call when I’m on the ground. Tasha’s phone dead?” Sam sighed heavily.

The second most recent text was from Coulson. “Get out now.”

“Why?” Sam texted back.

“Reinders is dead.”

***


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydra invades the safe house, things go from bad to worse, but all hope is not lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major trigger warnings herein. Rape/non-con warning. Relevant tags: violence, threat of gang rape, forcible rape, blood play,

Sam tucked the phone into his pocket. He slipped a fresh magazine into his pistol, moving as quietly as possible. He didn’t hear anything from upstairs. He surreptitiously peeked out the window. The good news was that it had stopped snowing. The bad news was that there were four large, armored vehicles parked outside. He pulled out the phone again and sent a message back to Barton.

“Hydra at safe house.”

He met the old man on the staircase. “Are you even a real doctor?”

The old man blinked at Sam in surprise. “Of course.”

“I know you aren’t Reinders.”

“I am Dr. Steppan,” he said.

“And you work for Hydra,” Sam filled in. 

“I need my bag from downstairs.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Sam replied.

“The general is merely awaiting my signal that it is safe for the men to come in.” The doctor reached out with one hand and shoved Sam hard.

“Shit!” Sam fell backwards down the stairs. “Ow. Motherfu-“ He grabbed Dr. Steppan’s leg as the man tried to pass him. “No way.” 

The doctor shouted in German as he fell. 

Steve awoke to the sound of a thud and a loud burst of obscenities. Bucky was still tucked against him, warm now, his breathing steady and deep. Steve slipped out of the bed and picked up his shield. There was another loud thud from downstairs. 

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Sam scuffling with Dr. Reinders. Steve hesitated in confusion before the front door swung open. A single man stood in the doorway and threw something into the living room. A metal cylinder landed a few feet from Sam and the doctor. Steve leapt for it. 

There was a flash of light and a plume of indigo smoke. Steve was being manhandled down the stairs by three men; his ankles bound together, his wrists bound behind his back. They dumped him on the basement floor, next to Sam, who was similarly bound. Two men laid Fury next to him. One man came down with Natasha over his shoulder and dropped her unceremoniously. 

“So, the grenades do work on you, though the effect wears off more quickly than anticipated,” a tall, blond, man observed.

“What do you want?” Steve snarled.

“We will wait for the others to awaken.” He cocked his head slightly to one side. “Excuse me, I am needed upstairs.” Most of the men followed him, but two remained behind. 

Steve’s heart dropped. There was only one person left upstairs. He began to pull against his bonds. 

One of the guards laughed. “A truck couldn’t pull those apart.”

Steve kept trying. Sam groaned. “How’re you doing?” Steve asked.

“My head hates me.”

“The unknown is waking up,” the other guard announced. 

“I’ve been called worse things,” Sam remarked. 

Dr. Steppan made his way down the stairs, assisted by another Hydra agent.

“How long on the other two, doc?”

“Not much longer,” he said, checking his watch. “Let me check them.” He stooped to check Natasha’s pulse. Fury began to cough and retch. “An unfortunate side effect, not much longer at all.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Nick’s mouth. “Get him some water.”

“Can’t. General gave orders.”

Dr. Steppan shook his head. 

“Sir, they’re all waking,” Steppan’s escort said. 

The general, the tall, blond man who had hurried upstairs earlier, returned. Bucky trailed close behind him, the other agents filed in to fill the small basement. “Captain Rogers, I believe you had a question for me?”

“What do you want?” Steve spat the words at him. 

“I want a lot of things. First priority was, of course, getting back the asset you had stolen.” He smiled fondly at Bucky. “Second,” he turned his focus to Fury. “Is getting Zola’s algorithm.”

“I don’t suppose third is letting us go, unharmed,” Steve replied. 

“We will need you. You are our best shot at recreating Erskine’s formula. We will get to that later. Mr. Fury? The algorithm?”

“Went down with the ship, I told you a hundred times.” Fury’s voice sounded pained. 

“SHIELD protocol dictates that all data be backed up. We’ve searched the files. Either it is encrypted beyond our ability to detect or it is being stored somewhere that cannot be accessed from the hub.”

“I broke protocol.”

“You’re lying,” anger flashed across the general’s face. “No matter. The truth will come out.” He was eerily calm as quickly as he’d shown the rage. “Jeremy,” he turned to a young agent standing in the doorway. “You expressed disappointment when we were upstairs.”

“I was spoiling for a fight, sir. Seems cheap to walk in and everybody’s drugged.”

The general nodded. “Step up.”

Jeremy stepped forward. The other agents, who had been milling around the basement, fell back to form a ring at its edge. The general made eye contact with one of his men and nodded. The man stepped forward, bent down and cut the tie around Natasha’s ankles. 

“Ready?”

Jeremy nodded eagerly. The other agent stepped behind Natasha and freed her hands. Grinning, Jeremy stepped forward and swung a low, hard kick at her before she could begin to get up. She caught his leg and twisted, using leverage more than strength. The young soldier shrieked in pain as his knee dislocated. 

The general laughed. Natasha drove her knee into Jeremy’s ribs, fracturing at least two of them, as she stood. “And that’s why we do things the easy way,” the general observed. “Take her down.”

After seeing how quickly she’d taken out Jeremy, some of the men were hesitant to obey. Others had less sense. Natasha had clearly gone into ‘take no prisoners’ mode, breaking bones and dislocating joints wherever she could. 

“You too,” the general said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Get in there and get things under control.” 

“Bucky!” Steve shouted. He was ignored as his old friend waded into the fray. The basement was crowded enough that it was difficult to follow the events unfolding as they watched. Everyone fell still and silent at once and the Hydra agents backed up. 

Natasha was flat on her back, blood running down from her nose, Bucky kneeling by her head with his hand on her throat. 

“Whoa, whoa, ease up,” the general ordered. “We need her alive. The Russians won’t pay for a corpse.”

Bucky shifted his weight slightly and Natasha gasped and coughed, color returning to her cheeks. 

“Bucky, you don’t have to do this,” Steve called out. “Don’t listen to him. C’mon, Buck.”

“Mr. Fury, the algorithm?” The general looked at Nick expectantly. Fury glowered back at him and said nothing. “Very well.” 

“Let her go, Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “Please, just…”

“Bertram,” the general focused his attention on one of his men. “You’re up.”

Bertram was tall, thin, with a shock of red hair and a scraggly beard. He snapped his fingers and beckoned a few of the other men forward. Two of them grabbed Natasha’s wrists, pulling her arms out to a T. “Give a little pressure, Lefty,” Bertram instructed. 

The general chuckled again. “That’s you, Soldier, go ahead and do as he says.” 

Bucky glanced up at Bertram and squeezed Natasha’s throat. The other two soldiers stepped forward and quickly stripped off Natasha’s thermal leggings and her underwear, each grabbing one of her ankles as they finished tossing the clothing aside. 

“Why don’t you come down and take a leg, Lefty,” Bertram said. “Help them flip her, I want her face down.” He pulled a knife out of its sheath on his belt and toyed with it. Bucky let go of Natasha’s throat and moved back, circling past the man holding her right hand and grabbing her left leg. At Bertram’s nod, the men all scrambled to change positions and turn Natasha over. 

She wrenched one hand free and made a mad grab for the nearest weapon. Her fingers closed around the soldier’s pistol, freeing it from its holster. It clattered to the ground as pain, bright and searing and deep shot through her entire right side. The agony tore a scream from her lips and she landed face down on the concrete. 

Natasha closed her eyes. Bright lights shone down on her face, masking her view of the audience. Wooden boards creaked lightly beneath her feet as the music cued up. She opened her eyes, but she didn’t see the basement, she only saw the stage. 

Everyone went still for a moment at the sound of the pop and her scream. Everyone except Bertram. He knelt between Natasha’s thighs, unfastening his pants. 

“Nebraska,” Fury declared loudly. 

That snapped the general out of his daze. “Where?” he demanded. 

“Call him off,” Fury responded. 

“Coordinates, an address, give me the location,” the General roared.

Natasha’s face was blank, expressionless. She didn’t make a sound as Bertram penetrated her. She blocked out pain, her muscles poised to strike if an opportunity presented itself, but her mind was elsewhere. She was rising en pointe, limbs extended gracefully, letting the music carry her through the choreography. 

“Stop him,” Fury shouted. 

“Where in Nebraska?” 

“Bucky,” Steve whimpered. “What are you doing?” 

The general stepped behind Nick and grabbed his shirt, pulling him up to a seated position. He held him by the jaw and kept his face pointed at the man raping Natasha. Bertram made a shallow cut at the base of her neck and bent down to suck blood from the wound. He finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulled out. 

“I thought she’d struggle a bit more,” Bertram remarked as he zipped his pants. 

“Where in Nebraska?” the general asked in a gentler tone. 

“You think I’m still going to cooperate after that little display?” Fury spat. 

“I think there are a dozen men in this room and twenty more upstairs,” the general answered. His voice was still soft. “She might in for a very long night if you don’t.”

“3423 Second Avenue, Kearney,” Fury answered. “It’s an office building. SHIELD started using it for off-grid storage about six years ago.”

"You two," the General gestured. "On guard. I've got some calls to make." He put his hand on Bucky's shoulder as he passed, gently guiding the Winter Soldier up the stairs. The rest of the men fell in behind the two of them. They left Natasha in the middle of the floor, half-naked and unmoving. No one spoke for a long moment. Steve was glaring daggers at the two guards, Sam was quietly flexing his arms to see if he could loosen his bonds. Fury was staring at Natasha, who blinked slowly as blood trickled from her nose and dripped onto the floor. 

"You didn't save her, you know," one of the guards finally said. He stepped forward, swaggering towards Natasha's prone form. "You just bought her some time." He bent down and rolled her onto her back. "As it turns out, not even that much time."

He put one knee between her legs and unbuckled his belt. Natasha's completely vacant expression never changed, even as she reached up, grabbed his jaw and the back of his head and snapped his neck. She shoved as he fell so that he landed next to her, not on her and quickly freed his pistol from his belt. She leveled the gun at the remaining guard. Her hands shook. 

He put his hands up quickly. "Hey, wait, I-"

"Free my friends," Natasha ordered. Her voice was as flat and emotionless as her face. The guard nodded. He pulled out a knife and showed it to her.

"I can cut through the ties," he said, stammering slightly. "But I don't have a key for the cuffs. The general has the only key."

"Him first," she jerked her head towards Sam. The guard cut through the plastic ties binding Sam's wrists and handed him the knife, backing away with his hands up. Sam freed his ankles and moved to Fury, cutting through his bonds. 

Natasha let her head rest back on the floor, trembling. She felt nauseated. Sam quickly stepped behind the guard and put him in a sleeper hold. The guard struggled briefly. 

"Rogers," Fury called quietly. "Can you get to me?" 

"Um, maybe," Steve replied. He started wiggling towards Nick and Nick began half crawling, half dragging himself towards the captain. As Sam lowered the unconscious guard to the floor, the door to the basement opened. He quickly pulled the gun off the man and took aim. Dr. Steppan raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

"Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you where you stand," Sam growled.

"I can give you two," the doctor offered. "First, the men upstairs will hear the gunshot. They will come running with weapons drawn. There will be casualties on both sides, especially yours. Second," he glanced at Natasha. "Her hip is dislocated. She requires immediate medical attention. You have hours before she suffers irreversible damage to her tendons, ligaments, the bones themselves." He frowned. “Six would be a generous estimate. Can you fight your way to freedom, with two so badly injured they cannot walk, and get to a hospital in less than six hours?”

"Why would you help?" Fury demanded. He didn’t look up; he was busy picking the lock on Steve’s cuffs. 

"I am an Agent of Hydra but first and foremost, I am a physician. I am bound by oath to use my knowledge in a godly manner."


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A daring escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for vomiting, kissing and fondling with dubious consent, violence and language. I don't know why Clint swears so damn much when I write him, but he's got a mouth like a filthy sailor.

“Sam, I need you to help hold her,” Dr. Steppan instructed. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Sam replied, keeping the gun leveled at the doctor. He stepped forward and took the other gun out of Natasha’s hands, tucking it into the back of his waistband. “I’ll stand back and make sure things don’t go badly.”

Dr. Steppan knelt next to Natasha and put a gentle hand on her hip. “Normally I would prefer to have an x-ray before attempting reduction. Of course, I would also prefer anesthetic. We shall have to make due.”

Fury finished picking the cuffs to free Steve. Steve rubbed his wrists.

“Do you really need help?”

“If she moves, there may be additional damage to the nerves,” Dr. Steppan replied. 

“We don’t have much time, they could come back at any moment,” Steve said, he knelt on Natasha’s other side. “What do I have to do?”

“Just keep her still,” Dr. Steppan said. “Miss, I need to relax as much as possible. I know you’re in a lot of pain and this will be painful as well, but it is necessary.”

“Just do it,” Natasha murmured. She didn't scream but the nausea got the better of her. As soon as Steve and the doctor let go, she rolled to one side and vomited onto the floor. There wasn't much in her stomach to come up. 

“You need to keep your weight off that leg and you need an x-ray as soon as possible,” Dr. Steppan advised. 

Steve gathered Natasha’s pants and underwear from the far side of the room and brought them to her while trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed she wasn't wearing them. 

“Now what?” Sam asked.

“Well, we’re outnumbered, what eight to one?” Steve started. “We've got two weapons between the four of us, and they have Bucky.”

“Burnt out light bulb above your head,” Natasha said. “Unscrew it and reach into the socket.”

“That seems unwise,” Steve replied hesitantly.

“There’s what feels like a loose wire,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “Pull it and you’ll open up a hidden compartment, it’s also accessible from the floorboards in the kitchen. Inside is my weapons cache.”

“That resolves exactly one of my concerns,” Steve pointed out, but he followed her instructions. The cache was impressive: two rifles, six pistols, and a collapsed compound bow that made Fury smile. There was adequate ammo for everything, and a smooth block of something grey wrapped in clear plastic. 

“Don’t touch that,” Natasha advised. “Does anyone have their phone?”

“I've got mine and his,” Sam offered. He pulled out Steve’s phone. 

Natasha took the phone and dialed.

“Bout fucking time, what the shit is going on in there?” Barton demanded.

“Where are you?”

“Tasha, thank God. Two minutes, I can be there in two minutes. Where are you?”

“Basement.”

“They've got four trucks parked out front,” Sam said.

“Four trucks out front,” Natasha repeated into the phone. “Blowing up one would be a nice distraction.”

“Sounds good, but I think you’re going to owe me dinner.”

“I’ll even spring for drinks and dessert.”

“That bad?”

“Clock’s ticking. Blow the truck, we’ll get out the back door. Be ready to make like a bread truck.”

“Already on my way,” Clint promised. “See you soon. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, bye,” Natasha echoed. 

“Out the back door?” Steve confirmed.

“I’m going to advise you to get into that crawlspace in the ceiling and come through the floorboards. You find Bucky, meet us out back. Sam, can you get Fury up those stairs?”

“I think we can manage,” Sam replied.

“I can walk,” Nick objected. 

“You better take a pistol, those rifles kick hard,” Natasha responded. She picked up the grey object.

“What is that?” Steve asked.

“Let’s just say, I’m going to owe you a phone.” She shoved one of the pistols into her waistband. “Doc, you’re with me.” She grabbed his arm and pulled herself to her feet, leaning on the old man to get over to the generator. 

Steve pulled himself into the small area the weapons had been hidden in. The house shook from the force of the explosion outside. Sam grabbed a rifle and threw Nick’s arm over his shoulders. They started up the stairs. Steve pushed aside the floorboards and climbed up into the kitchen. Most of the men had rushed to the front to see the source of the explosion. Steve grabbed one of the stragglers and slammed him into the wall.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Uh-upstairs with the general,” the man stammered. Steve knocked him out with one punch. His shield was resting on the counter, next to a microwave. Steve grabbed it and took the stairs two at a time. His first stop was the bedroom where he and Bucky had been sleeping when the initial Hydra attack took place. It turned out to be a good guess. Steve opened the door to find both Bucky and the general. 

They were kissing. Bucky’s hand was resting against the front of the general’s slacks and the general looked up at Steve with the expression of a man who did not want to be interrupted. If the explosion downstairs hadn't dissuaded them, nothing short of a physical intervention would. Steve charged into the room. 

He grabbed Bucky by the shoulder and hauled him away from the general. He stepped between them and smashed the edge of his shield into the general’s jawline with everything he had. The man flew back, crashing into the wall and Steve brought the shield down again. He might’ve stood there all night, bashing the general’s skull into paste with his shield had it not been for Bucky’s hand on his shoulder. Steve turned to see Bucky staring at him in concern and confusion.

“Steve?”

“Let’s go.” He took Bucky by the hand, leading him back down the stairs.

Natasha finished rigging the explosive putty and the phone to the generator. She wrapped one arm around Dr. Steppan’s shoulders and pressed the barrel of a pistol into his ribs. “Now, let’s get out of here.” 

Sam and Nick made it to the plane first. “Sir?” Barton sounded confused as hell. “Aren't you dead?”

“Not yet,” Fury replied grimly. Natasha and the doctor made it out of the house next, but Steve and Bucky passed them on the way to the plane. Tucking Bucky safely on board, Steve turned back to help Natasha get on.

“Go!” she shouted to Clint.

“What’d you bring him for?” Sam asked, pointing to Dr. Steppan.

“Doctors make the best human shields,” Natasha explained. “Their allies are usually real hesitant to shoot them. And he was right about not putting weight on my leg. Can I borrow your phone?” 

The gangplank was still down, the rear of the plane open to the sky as Natasha craned her neck to see the safe house. With a sigh, she dialed Steve's number. The shock wave from the exploding house caused a massive bout of turbulence. The disturbance combined with a hard shove from Natasha sent the doctor plummeting out of the jet.

“You…” Steve gaped. “You threw him out of the plane.”

“He was Hydra,” Natasha replied. 

“He was a doctor, he saved Nick’s life, your leg. He helped us.”

“He drugged us. He was our enemy, Steve,” she insisted.

“He was unarmed; you basically took him prisoner just to, to throw him out of an airplane?”

“He was a bad guy.”

“What are we?” Steve looked down at the blood on his shield. 

Bucky reached out tentatively and laced his fingers through Steve’s. 

“Those guys made their choices and we made ours,” Sam said finally. 

Steve found a rag and wiped the blood off his shield. Bucky eventually rested his head against Steve’s shoulder and dozed off. Sam buckled himself into a seat and proved that he could sleep anywhere. Nick drifted between sleep and wake, too exhausted and weakened to stay awake, in too much pain to sleep. Natasha lay on the floor under the seats, on her side to keep weight off her injured hip, her arm tucked against her chest with her hand resting over the small cut on her neck. It was a long and very quiet flight.

***

Pepper was waiting at the landing pad with a small army of men and women in scrubs . “We weren't sure how bad it would be,” she explained as Steve stepped off the plane. “So we brought in a medical team. The boys are inside, cooking.”

“Fury and Natasha definitely need medical,” Steve replied. He looked at Bucky and frowned. “I don’t know if there’s anything anyone can do for him right now.”

“Fury?” Pepper repeated. 

“Long story,” Steve said. 

“I’m Pepper,” she said, offering her hand to Sam as he deboarded.

“Sam Wilson.”

“We’ve got plenty of empty apartments if you want a place to clean up or crash, for however long you like. Tony, Bruce and Phil are making…I’m going to go with lunch, given the time, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sam replied. “Shower and sleep sounds great.”

“Maybe later, there’s a communal kitchen that’s fully stocked and always available.” She escorted him inside. 

Clint supervised while the medical team loaded Fury onto a gurney and quickly shooed them off the plane. He raised the gangplank and sat down on the floor across from Natasha. 

“You need medical?” he asked. Natasha nodded, so subtly he almost missed it. “You ready for them now?” She shook her head. “Wanna talk?” She shook her head again. Clint sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Just say when.”

Clint stared up at the ceiling, wishing he’d eaten in London when he’d stopped to refuel. When he glanced back at Natasha, he saw tears on her cheeks. He quickly rolled over and reached out to stroke her hair. She wiggled closer, burying her face in Clint’s shoulder before letting loose with a wracking sob. Clint just kept petting her hair and waited for the storm to pass. 

As her weeping subsided, Clint spoke. “Ready to talk?”

“Doctor, shower, food, then talk,” Natasha replied. 

“You’re really hurt,” Clint observed.

“Dislocated my hip.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Worse than a shoulder.”

Clint winced. “I’ll get the medical team in here.” He sat up and dusted himself off.

“One of them raped me,” Natasha said very quietly. “With everyone watching.” Her voice cracked. 

Clint lay back down and reached for her. 

“My usual method of coping calls for heavy doses of denial, so…” Natasha admitted. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Well,” Clint said. “I think the goal is to get past denial and on to acceptance.”  
Natasha wriggled closer and pressed her head against his chest. “Disappearing into a hole in the ground not an option?”

“No,” Clint answered firmly. “I’d miss you.” He gently squeezed her shoulder. “I wish I could make this easier.”

“You are.”

***

Pepper frowned when she walked back into the kitchen. “Are Clint and Natasha still?” she nodded to a video feed of the landing pad.

“Yeah,” Phil replied. He was paying more attention to the monitor than the soup he was idly stirring.

“That’s bad?” Pepper guessed.

“It’s not good.”

They watched as Clint carried Natasha out of the quin-jet and placed her onto a stretcher. Phil leaned in closer to the monitor, trying to make out Clint’s face as he gave instructions to the medic. Shaking his head, he stepped aside and began washing his hands. 

Clint was sitting at the edge of the landing pad when Phil got outside. Phil sat down next to his husband on the ground.

“You’re going to ruin that suit,” Clint remarked.

“I have other suits.”

Clint nodded and stared out at the skyline. “I think I’m going to hit the range for a while,” he finally announced.

“You won’t say what she told you?” Phil asked. 

“She was raped while the others watched. So she can’t pull her usual stunt of pretending nothing happened. I’ve got to talk to Rogers; I think he’s the biggest potential problem here.”

“Why do you say that?” Phil frowned.

“Old-fashioned. He’s going to start treating her like a delicate flower and she’s going to snap and just completely kick his ass. Funny to watch, but I think it’ll make things worse,” Clint explained. 

“So, go talk to Rogers now, before he has a chance to say or do something that’ll make things worse. You can hit the range after.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d offer to talk to him for me. You know, it’s an opportunity to talk to Rogers. You’ll be nicer to him than I will.” Clint elbowed his husband teasingly. 

“I don’t normally pass up an opportunity to talk to Steve,” Phil acknowledged. “No matter how many times I stick my foot in my mouth. I have someone else I need to talk to.”

“Someone else?”

Phil nodded. “I think we've kind of tabled lunch, but we’ll do a big group dinner, if you want to extend invitations to Steve and Bucky. Maybe Sam if you bump into him?”

“Sure,” Clint agreed casually. 

***


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations, introductions, apologies, kittens and an argument.

"Forgive me for not getting up," Fury said wryly as Phil let himself in. Nick was wrapped in an oversized Iron Man fleece blanket, sitting on the couch, sipping soup.

"You look terrible," Phil remarked. "How long did they have you?"

"Six days."

"We didn't even know you were missing." Phil shook his head. "If Captain Rogers hadn't been so Hell-bent on finding his buddy, well..."

"Would've been a long time," Nick acknowledged. 

"Six days is a long time. How are you doing?"

"Feel like I've been tortured. But I'm on the mend." He set his bowl aside. "At the end, I did give them the office in Nebraska."

"With the encrypted..."

Fury nodded. 

"Well, that should keep them busy a while," Phil chuckled. 

"Hopefully a good long while," Nick agreed. "Is that enough small talk? Can we get to it now?"

Phil nodded. He pulled the armchair in closer and sat. "I don't know what happened with you and Natasha. That's not really relevant. You still have feelings for her?"

"Yes."

"Must have been difficult, seeing what happened."

"You going to play armchair psychiatrist now?" Fury asked. 

"I'm offering my advice if you want it," Coulson replied. "You already know I have a good understanding of Nat."

Nick gave a noncommittal nod. 

"I've also been where you are."

Fury turned his head sharply to study Phil's face. 

"With Clint. I didn't see it happen, but..."

"When?" His tone was sympathetic, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Loki."

“Alright, I’m listening.”

***

Clint wasn’t surprised to note that the apartment Tony had reserved for Natasha was identical in layout to the one shared with Phil. The furnishings were sleek, modern, and sparse and the entire place was immaculate. It also didn’t look that different from the apartment she called hers eight blocks away. He could hear water running.

“Jarvis, how long has she been in the shower?”

“Approximately eighteen and a half minutes.”

Clint shook his head. Only Jarvis could approximate in halves. He let himself into the master bedroom and stood at the bathroom door. “Tasha? I got your clothes.”

He didn’t hear a response. “Also, the combination of energy application and the size of the water tanks means that all sixty apartments would have to run the dishwasher, washing machine, and all of the taps before we’d risk running out of hot water. So, if you were thinking of staying in there until it gets cold, you might want to reconsider.”

He put the clothes on the foot of the bed and wandered back out to the living room. Clint’s ability to wait was legendary. He sat on the couch. He didn’t fidget, didn’t change position or check the time on his phone. He amused himself by trying to determine who had picked out each of the furnishings. Overall, the apartment seemed to cater to Pepper’s tastes, but the opulence of the appliances was all Tony. 

Natasha’s hair was still wet when she came out.

“How are you?”

“X-rays looked good,” she answered. “I shouldn’t need surgery for my hip and I can start physical therapy right away.”

Clint nodded. “Have you given any thought to, uh, therapy therapy?”

“You mean psychological?” Natasha clarified.

“Yeah.”

Natasha shrugged and nearly dropped one of her crutches. Clint sighed and pulled out his wallet.

“So, I have a card for Dr. Barber here. She specializes in survivors of sexual assault and she’s very nice.”

“Is she your shrink?” Natasha asked.

“I think she prefers psychologist, but, yes.” He held up the business card. “I can just leave it on your kitchen counter, if you think you might…”

Natasha held out her hand. “Does she help?”

Clint nodded and passed her the card. Natasha studied it for a moment, turned it over in her hand. 

“I lost my phone in the lake and I don’t have pockets in these pants. Leave it on the kitchen counter, like you said.” She thrust it back towards him. Clint held out his cell phone instead. 

“Her number’s already programmed in.”

Natasha sighed and sat down next to him on the couch. She took the phone and pulled up his contacts. “Hello, I’d like to make an appointment to see Dr. Barber. No, I’d be a new patient. Natalie Rushman.”

Clint rolled his eyes. He got up and went to the bathroom. Natasha was off the phone when he came out and he leveled an accusing gaze at her. “It helps if you’re honest,” he said pointedly.

“Baby steps.”

***

Tony had taken a cue from King Arthur and furnished the group dining room with a massive circular table. He seated himself between Bruce and Pepper and managed to carry plates for all three of them. Pepper carried Tony’s drink. Phil let Nick take the seat next to Pepper and set empty plates at the two seats on his opposite side, reserving them for Clint and Natasha. 

Sam set his plate down next to Bruce’s. “Hi. Sam Wilson.”

“Bruce Banner.” He watched the fast bob of Sam’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed and waited a beat to see if the man would switch seats before offering his hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Banner.” Sam shook Bruce’s hand with a quick, firm, grip.

“Just Bruce, please.”

Clint took a quick look at the table. “You sit by Phil, I’ll get your food.” He held Natasha’s crutches while she maneuvered into the chair.

“It’s been, what, three hours and I’m already ready to throw those things out a window,” Natasha grumbled. 

“You can use them to smack Clint when he gets out of line,” Phil offered. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you two sit together,” Clint replied. 

“Hey,” Steve announced. “Everyone, this is Bucky.” He led Bucky to the seat next to Sam. “This is Sam, Bruce, Tony, Pepper, Nick, Phil, Natasha, and Clint, he was flying the plane. Do you remember the plane?” He spoke to Bucky like a very young, or possibly exceptionally stupid, child. 

“Kind of. That’s how we got here, right?” 

“That’s right. You sit, I’ll get you some food.”

Bucky sat obediently and Steve followed Clint into the kitchen. 

“I feel like I should say grace, or make a speech or something. We’re only one member shy of having the whole team here,” Tony proclaimed once everyone had settled in around the table. 

“Or we could just eat,” Pepper suggested. “I love you guys, but I’m starving.”

“I vote to eat,” Bruce agreed. “If we let Tony talk, the food’ll get cold.”

At first, there was silence as everyone busied themselves eating. 

"I have a question," Steve said between bites. "You're supposed to be dead.” He looked at Fury.

“I wouldn’t say ‘supposed to be’ but, yes.”

“I would,” Natasha input under her breath. 

“I meant,” Steve clarified, “Hydra is supposed to think you're dead That was the point of the whole charade with the multiple gunshot wounds and the drug that slowed down your heart rate and the funeral I couldn't go to because SHIELD was hunting me down... so how'd you end up being tortured in a Hydra base?”

“Somebody talked,” Nick answered plainly. 

“I thought the list of people who knew was pretty short,” Steve objected.

“You remember Madeleine?” Nick asked, looking mainly at Phil and Clint.

“The lady you brought to the wedding,” Clint supplied. “She seemed nice. She was Hydra?”

“No,” Nick shook his head. “I got into a bit of trouble about a month ago, she helped me out.”

“And then she sold you out,” Steve guessed.

“Maddie’s got one bit of family left in this world,” Fury explained. “A three-year-old granddaughter. Hydra’s got the girl. Maddie was nice enough to give me a heads up before I left.”

“They still have her?” Phil asked.

“Bet on it, and she’s probably pretty safe. They know they’ve got Maddie on a string as long as they have Simone.”

“I’m going to need all the intel you can get me on this kid,” Phil replied. 

“You plan on freeing all of Hydra’s prisoners, you’re going to need more manpower. That’s why I couldn’t let them get their hands on Zola’s algorithm. I don’t think they want to kill those people anymore, at least not all of them.”

“Not when they can recruit them by kidnapping their families and loved ones?” Steve guessed. 

“Bingo.” Nick smiled grimly. “Give the man a gold star.”

“So, you didn’t tell them the location at the cabin?” Sam clarified.

“Nebraska’s a dead end, nothing there but drive upon drive of computer viruses.” He spared a glance at Natasha as he admitted his deception. 

“Clever,” she responded. “Why didn’t you give up Nebraska when they were torturing you?”

Nick took a slow drink of his water. “No exit strategy,” he answered. “Couldn’t count on being able to get out of there in between the time I told the lie and when they found out it was a lie.”

Natasha’s jaw was tight, her lips pursed as she gave a slow nod. 

“I think it’s well worth SHIELD’s efforts to attempt a rescue of Madeleine’s granddaughter and any other hostages Hydra may have,” Phil jumped in, changing the subject. “We need all the allies we can get, France certainly counts.”

“SHIELD is you and ten other people,” Clint objected. “You don’t have the resources to take on Hydra.”

“Well, I’d certainly be willing to help with rescue missions,” Steve said. “I think you could probably recruit a few other people from this very table.”

“Sure,” Tony replied. “I mean, if I’m not too busy getting kittens out of trees. Bruce?”

“No.” Bruce shook his head, his curls falling across his forehead. “You don’t want me on a mission where the safety of the survivors is a priority.”

“Big Guy did alright with that kitten up a tree in Central Park,” Tony argued. 

“Kittens don’t have nightmares,” Bruce responded.

“Clint, you’re up for this, right?” Steve asked encouragingly. 

“I have a feeling I can’t refuse,” Clint answered, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s a shame we can’t get a hold of Thor, it’d be fun to get the old gang back together,” Steve said. “Sam?”

“Sure.”

“And maybe when Bucky starts feeling better, he can help out too,” Steve was clearly getting excited about the idea of working with the team again. “Natasha?”

“I feel sick,” She answered. “Probably a side effect from the meds. Sorry, I think I’m going to go lay down for a while.” 

"Wait!" Bucky scrambled to his feet. "I'm supposed to apologize."

Natasha had venom in her gaze as she fixed her eyes on him. 

"I mean, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry," he stammered. "For what I did at the safe house, for hurting you. I'm sorry for helping them."

"He doesn't actually remember what happened," Steve explained. 

"I'm sorry," the anger faded from her eyes as she spoke. "I can't accept your apology at this time." 

Bucky's face fell. 

"He doesn't even remember!" Steve objected. 

"I do," Natasha replied. She looked to Tony and Pepper. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I think it's best if I stay elsewhere."

Clint stood. "Let me get my keys and my coat. I'll drive you."

"I can get a cab," Natasha replied. 

"You're not hailing a cab on crutches in the snow," Clint insisted. "Line drawn." He ran his finger, pointed down, through the air between them. 

"I’ll grab my coat and meet you downstairs."

"Don't leave without me." Clint waited until the elevator doors shut behind her. He kissed Phil quickly. "Take care of things here, I'll see you in the morning."

"Drive safe," Phil answered. "Wear a hat."

“I am so sorry," Steve began in earnest. "I just thought an apology might help clear the air. I never meant-"

"It's fine," Phil cut him off. "You're fine. You didn't say or do anything wrong."

"But she's-"

"You," Phil turned to Nick. "On the other hand, are a first rate asshole."

"I-"

"An exit strategy? Are you fucking kidding?"

"It was the truth," Fury insisted calmly. 

"You lie so often and so well, you even have yourself fooled," Phil retorted. 

"She asked why I didn't talk when they were torturing me," Nick pointed out. "Not why I did later."

"This is not an interrogation," Phil shouted. "And she is not your enemy!" He stood. "She deserves better than you and she always has."

"It really burns you that you can't make that decision for her, doesn't it?" The arrogance in Nick's tone made Phil's blood boil. 

"I am trying to protect her," Phil spat. 

"You're failing."

Phil wasn't aware of making a conscious choice to punch his former boss. There was a loud noise and Phil's hand hurt. Nick was on the floor, his chair lying on its side, his lip bleeding. 

"Woah, woah," Pepper stepped between them. "There is no fighting at the dinner table."

Clint walked out of the elevator, wearing his coat and clutching a hat. "She left without me. What the hell happened here?"

***


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, progress, flashbacks, and another family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the flashbacks don't give you guys whiplash, there are going to be more in upcoming chapters. As you'll see, they aren't always directly tied in to the current timeline, but eventually it'll all make sense. There are also quite a few "cut scenes" that didn't make this chapter, so I hope everything is clear.

Natasha opened the door, looked Nick up and down and slammed it shut. 

“I brought coffee and bagels, but I’ll do this through the door if I have to.” He waited a moment but the door didn’t open. “I’m sorry.”

The door opened. “You let me think you were dead,” Natasha said bluntly. 

“I had my reasons,” Nick began.

“You didn’t trust me.” The hurt was evident in her voice and Nick thought he would’ve preferred anger.

“I trusted you to do what needed to be done if I wasn’t around.”

Natasha shook her head. “I was such a fool.” She retreated into the apartment and Nick followed, quietly closing the door behind himself. “But there are only two reasons you would’ve lied. You thought I was working with Hydra. Or you didn’t care how I would feel watching you die.” Her lower lip trembled.

“The truth?” Nick offered.

“If you can manage it.” Her voice was cold and bitter. 

“Only Dr. Banner knows this. Hill didn’t know,” he clarified. He sighed. “There was a chance that the Tetradoxine would kill me, that I would die trying to fake my own death.”

“How much of a chance?” Natasha asked.

“About forty percent. More, if doctor turned out to be Hydra and deliberately overdosed me.” He couldn’t quite read her reaction so he pressed on. “I didn’t want to tell you I was coming back if I wasn’t more than sixty percent sure that was the truth. Maybe I made the wrong decision, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you and it wasn’t because I didn’t care.”

Natasha sat down on the couch and accepted a cup of coffee. “I didn’t sleep well,” she admitted.

“I have a lot of things to apologize for,” Nick said.

Natasha shook her head. “You don’t owe me any apologies or any explanations. That was never part of our arrangement.”

“I don’t care about our arrangement.” He pulled an index card out of his coat pocket.

“You brought notes?”

“I didn’t sleep well either. These are in reverse chronological order.” He cleared his throat. The index card did have notes on it, but it was mainly to give him something to do with his hands. “First, last night, I apologize if the way that I phrased things failed to accurately reflect the high level of regard I hold you in.”

“Are these all going to sound like they were written by a high school English teacher?”

“I answered your question honestly but what I didn’t say is why I chose to speak up at the safe house. I would’ve said or done anything to stop them from hurting you. I'm sorry I didn't just say that last night. Which brings me to apology number two: I’m sorry I failed to protect you.”

“I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done differently,” Natasha acknowledged. 

“I still regret not doing something differently.”

“Well, stop,” Natasha instructed.

“I’ll get right on that. Moving on, I’m sorry I let you think I was dead. At the time, it seemed like the lesser of two evils. And I’m sorry for whatever I said or did that made you leave the last night we were together. I'm sorry for not knowing what to apologize for." He slowed down; the words came haltingly. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I love you." He looked up from the card to try to catch her reaction. "And finally, I’m sorry I fell in love with you after you asked me not to.”

“When?” 

“When what?” Nick asked, feigning ignorance.

“You said you should’ve told me sooner that you loved me, when would you have said it?”

“It’s kind of a Princess Bride moment,” he answered. “Remember when I said you’d be the death of me?”

Natasha nodded.

“What I meant was I love you.” He gave her half a smile. “I don’t know. It happened so gradually and took me so long to admit that in retrospect… I knew you were trouble the minute you walked in the door. I just didn’t know that I knew it.”

“It’s hard to hold a grudge against a man who knows your coffee order,” Natasha admitted. “But I need some time.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I think I’m going to be laying low at the tower for the foreseeable future, Stark has pretty good security.”

“What now?”

“When you’re ready, I’d like to take you on a proper date.”

“A date?” Natasha echoed in a dubious tone.

“Lunch, drinks, dinner and a show. Maybe dancing once your hip gets better.”

“You want to take me dancing?”

“I want to take you everywhere.” 

“Give me a month,” Natasha requested.

“Take as long as you need.”

“Why are there four cups of coffee in your drink carrier?” she asked.

Nick winced. “I have to go make apologies to Coulson.”

“Leave me a bagel; I have to get ready to go to physical therapy.”

***

For twenty-five nights, Steve had slept on the floor in the guest bedroom of his apartment at Avengers Tower. For twenty-five nights, he’d woken, some time between one and three, to the sound of Bucky whimpering or crying out in his sleep. Night twenty-six, Steve woke and listened. Bucky choked out a sob, and Steve stood up, stretching until his back popped. He climbed under the covers and lay face to face with Bucky. 

Initially, Bucky shied away from Steve’s touch, but Steve pulled him into his arms and stroked his hair. He murmured the same phrases over and over. “It’s okay, Bucky. I’m here. You’re safe, Bucky.” 

Once Bucky settled back into a quiet sleep, his breathing deep and even, Steve got up. He hit the treadmill in the gym downstairs and ran for an hour. He came back to his apartment and showered and began fixing breakfast. Bucky woke at a quarter after seven, just as Steve was getting the first batch of pancakes off the griddle. 

“Morning, Buck. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” His voice was flat, emotionless, and dull. 

“It’s Wednesday. Pancakes,” Steve chirped. “I thought after breakfast we could go to the grocery store, as long as we’re back before ten.”

“Dr. Lang comes at ten, I know. I remember,” Bucky sounded mildly irritated. Dr. Lang came to the tower three times a week, for two hours at a time. Steve had no idea what the psychiatrist actually did, and Bucky never seemed any different when he left. 

“After that, we can go out for lunch,” Steve offered. “I want to get a haircut, do you want yours cut?” Bucky’s hair was nearly shoulder-length and it bothered Steve more than he wanted to admit. Bucky didn’t answer; he walked out of the kitchen without a word. 

Steve frowned. He turned the burner down so the sausages wouldn’t burn and followed Bucky into the master bedroom. Bucky picked up a photograph from Steve’s dresser and headed into the bathroom. He looked from the photo to the mirror and back again. 

“Like this?” he asked, showing Steve the picture. 

“If that’s how you want it,” Steve answered. He gently took the photo from Bucky’s hands. “This is how I remembered you. It’s how I knew you. It’s not who you have to be now.”

“Let’s get it cut.” Bucky sounded decisive. “Less work, right?”

***

Natasha was sitting in the lobby when Steve and Bucky left for lunch. 

“Natasha,” Steve greeted her warmly. “I haven’t seen much you lately.”

“That’s because we’ve been avoiding each other,” she acknowledged. One crutch rested across her lap, the other nowhere to be seen. “How’s he doing?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, who hung back by the elevator, and sighed. “Sometimes he seems so much better, like he’s almost himself again and sometimes…” he shook his head. “The psychiatrist just left.”

“I know, I saw him. Dr. Lang’s a pretty good guy, but the deprogramming is rough. Honestly, it was harder than anything else.”

“I didn’t realize,” Steve said awkwardly. 

“It wasn’t the same as what they did to him,” Natasha replied quickly. “Well, some of it probably was.”

“Down to just one?” Steve gestured to the crutch.

“As of today. I’m celebrating with a lunch date,” Natasha smiled. 

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly, a crease appeared between his brows. The man had no poker face at all. 

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, sending Bucky scurrying towards Steve. Nick stepped out and walked towards the three of them.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes,” he greeted them. “Heading out?”

“Lunch and some errands,” Steve replied. 

“Ready, Natasha?” Nick offered her his hand.

She flipped her crutch down with a flourish and used his hand to pull herself out of the chair. “You know, Steve, if you need someone to talk to, we don’t have to avoid each other.”

"Would now be a better time to offer up that apology?" Bucky asked suddenly. He half-hid behind Steve and ducked his shoulders shyly, his hair falling across his eyes. 

"No," Natasha sighed. Bucky flinched at her response, Steve's face fell. "Stop looking like I kicked your puppy, both of you." Natasha scolded. "You don't need to apologize. You don't bear any responsibility for what you did."

So you're not angry?" Bucky asked. 

"I'm plenty angry." Natasha's voice was calm, non-accusatory. "I'm just not angry at you specifically. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who's to blame. What's done is done."

"Apologies and good intentions don't mend broken bones," Nick said quietly, almost to himself. 

"Nice to see you're catching on,” Natasha remarked.

"I'm a slow learner, but I do learn."

"Catch up with you later, Steve?" Natasha offered him a faint smile. 

"Sure. Enjoy your lunch."

***

Natasha and Nick went to lunch. They went for coffee. The weather warmed and they went to an outdoor jazz concert in Central Park. Natasha traded her crutch for a cane. They went to karaoke with Clint and Phil but neither of them sang. They went to dinner. They went to the new James Bond movie and afterward out for drinks to dissect all the unrealistic bits.

"You've got to get on your landlord about fixing that elevator," Nick remarked as he walked Natasha up to her apartment. "Or you could move into the tower."

"It's only the fifth floor, it's good exercise." 

"Your doctor give you any idea how much longer you need to use the cane?"

Natasha shook her head. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. "Do you want to come inside?" Her voice was heavy with innuendo.

"Mmm." He kissed her tenderly. "God, do I.”

“But?” Natasha prompted.

“Can’t shake the nagging feeling that you wouldn’t be asking if you hadn’t had that third martini.”

"I am barely intoxicated," Natasha insisted. 

"I want you completely sober."

"Stay," she whispered, looking up at him through her dark lashes. 

"Come out to the tower tomorrow and have breakfast with me," Nick countered. Natasha unlocked her door.

"Last chance to change your mind."

“I don’t want to be something you regret in the morning.”

“I miss how things were before,” she confessed. 

“It’ll be better this time,” Nick promised. “Sleep tight.”

“What’s for breakfast?” Natasha asked. 

“Waffles. Eggo, none of that store-brand shit. You coming?”

Natasha couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe I’ll be there, maybe I won’t.”

***

__

_“New girls this afternoon,” Petrovich growled._

__

_The Winter Soldier nodded and said nothing._

__

_“Six this time. Cull the weakest, there will only be enough dinner for five.”_

__

_The Winter Soldier nodded again._

__

_He had no sense of time, his lunch was brought to him and he ignored it in favor of disassembling, cleaning and reassembling his rifle seventeen times. The Widow Initiates were brought by their headmistress. The Winter Soldier’s gaze passed over each of the six young women in turn. They’d been told something of him, or had heard tall tales; there was fear in the eyes of one fledgling. ‘Cull the weakest.’_

__

_His attention settled on the smallest, who barely came up to his sternum. Her thin, pale arms reminded him of a skeleton, picked bare by scavengers. Her copper-colored hair fell in waves to her shoulders._

__

_“What do they call you?”_

__

_“Natalya.”_

__

_“You’re first.” He swung at her before she could speak in response. She blocked and countered. Better than expected. Stronger than she looked. He pressed. She bared her teeth when she fought. One canine was crooked. She knocked him to the ground while he was noticing her teeth._

__

_He got up and turned to another. “You’re next. What do they call you?”_

__

_“Lan.”_

__

_Lan was no taller than Natalya but her arms and legs were thicker, more obviously muscular. She had glossy black hair that fell, perfectly straight, to her hips. It made him think of an octopus’s ink. She’d had training; the movements she favored were familiar in a vague way._

__

_“Hilda.” He’d been told once that most girls were between 14 and 16 years old when they got to him. Hilda was already nearly as tall as he. Her hair was a very pale blond, pulled into a tight braid. Her eyes were ice blue. She was strong and put her long arms and legs to good use. Her movements were controlled and disciplined but slow._

__

_“Katya.” She held her own as well as he’d expected. There was nothing special about her._

__

_“Galina.” The frightened one he’d noted earlier stepped up. She was timid in her attacks and overzealous in her defense, wasting energy._

__

_“Anna. Are you going to kill us?”_

__

_“Probably.”_

__

_Like Katya, he found Anna to be unremarkable._

__

_He sighed and attacked Natalya again, this time without warning. She impressed him, incorporating moves she’d seen the others execute. She was a fast learner. She used a feint she’d seen him pull off against Hilda and nearly got the knife off his belt. He shoved her away and went after Katya, then Lan, Hilda, Anna and finally Galina. His bout with Galina ended when he broke her neck._

__

***

Natasha started coming to the weekly dinners at the tower. Everyone took turns planning and cooking the meals. Pepper baked chicken and roasted vegetables. Clint smoked ribs all day. Phil made lasagna. Steve pan-fried what he called meatloaf burgers. On Bruce’s turn, it was curried lamb. They were just sitting down to eat when Phil pulled out his cell phone.

“Phil,” Pepper scolded. “No tech at the table.”

“I’m sorry, Pepper.” He stood and quickly hurried out of the dining room. Clint frowned, his eyes following Phil. 

“Clint?” Pepper prompted.

“That’s work,” he answered, not taking his gaze off the doorway. Natasha dished food onto his and Phil’s plates while he fretted. 

Phil was smiling when he came back. “We found Madeleine’s granddaughter.” He laid his phone on the table, displaying a map. “Who’s in?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Clint replied.

“Absolutely,” Tony answered. “Rescuing kids is great PR.” He elbowed Bruce. “You should try it.”

Bruce shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll come as long as Bucky’s okay with staying here with Dr. Banner,” Steve said. 

“I could help,” Bucky said quietly. 

“I’m in,” Nick said.

“Me too,” Natasha added. She leaned forward to get a better look at the screen.

Phil frowned. “What has your doctor said about your leg? How much longer with the cane?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “I can fly the jet.”

“So can I,” Phil said bluntly. “So could Nick. Hell, Steve could fly the fucking thing, we just won’t let him land.”

“Hey.”

Tony snickered. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asked.

“It’s dangerous and you don’t have to go,” Phil answered. Natasha gave him a very cold look and slid the phone closer to study the details. “Natasha,” Phil said gently. “I- God, this sounds so cruel and I don’t mean it that way- we don’t need you on this. Stay safe. Stay here.”

Clint grimaced. “Hey, we forgot wine glasses.” He stood up quickly.

“Also, wine,” Tony agreed. 

“I’m going,” Natasha said firmly. Everyone froze in their attempts to escape the table. “I have the location, I’m going. You can let me go with you, or you can accept the consequences of me going alone.”

Phil winced at the word ‘alone.’ 

“What gives?” Clint interjected. “After Havana, you said, and I quote ‘No more. Hostage suck, I’m never doing one of these again.’ Why are you suddenly so eager to go on a rescue mission?”

Natasha was busy staring down Phil.

“He has a fair point,” Phil agreed. “Why is this so important to you?”

Natasha could feel them all focus on her, their eyes made her skin crawl. She shrugged. “I just-“

“I know when you’re lying to me,” Phil interrupted. 

Natasha took a deep breath. “Simone’s the same age I was when my mother was killed and I was taken by the Red Room.” She rushed the words out before her voice could quaver. “I just want to fly the plane.”

Phil closed his eyes and his jaw tightened, lips pursed. “Okay, you’re in.”

***


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue is attempted, Natasha is stubborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the formatting for chapter 15, flashbacks are italicized effective retroactively. There's a lot of back and forth between past and present in this chapter, and upcoming ones, so hopefully no confusion. I'm just going to leave this underage tag here; Natalya's age isn't firmly established until later, but we're going to need that.

_The headmistress took the girls to the cafeteria for dinner. The Winter Soldier had dinner with Petrovich._

_“See anything interesting today?”_

_“A couple of them have potential.”_

_“What do you see?” Petrovich pressed._

_“Lan, she was trained by the Hand?”_

_“Good eye, yes,” Petrovich clapped him on the shoulder. “Ten years training there.”_

_“She’ll do well,” the Winter Soldier concluded._

_“Any of the others? The tall German girl, maybe?”_

_“Hilda’s too slow. She moves slow, she learns slow.” He shook his head. “Natalya, maybe.”_

_“The redhead?” Petrovich asked. “You think so?”_

_“She’s sharp,” the Winter soldier said. “Sharp mind, sharp eyes.”_

_“Sharp teeth, too,” Petrovich laughed. “Little bear.”_

_“She tries hard.”_

_“Da, she is a hard worker. What about the others?”_

_“Galina is gone, too timid. Katya and Anna won’t survive the training.”_

_“Get rid of them.”_

***

_Hilda, Lan, Natalya and the Winter Soldier sat at a small round table for lunch._

_“What do they call you?” Natalya asked._

_‘Soldat. Sobaka. Ublyudok.’The words came to his mind but he didn’t speak them._

_“Yasha,” he answered._

_“Yasha,” she repeated with a smile. He smiled back crookedly._

_By the end of the month, Hilda and Lan were gone; there was only Natalya. She remained under the Winter Soldier’s tutelage for three more months. He shoved her down onto the ground and straddled her hips, grabbing her shirt with one hand, and pulling the other back for a punch. She trapped his hand and bucked her hips, rolling both of them so she was on top, and driving her elbow into his inner thigh. She almost slipped free but he grabbed a handful of her hair as she moved away. He was scrabbling up as she turned her head and bit his wrist. He let go with a yelp._

_Laughing, he collapsed onto his back in the dirt, and Natasha got to her feet. “I should’ve used the other hand,” he remarked._

_She laughed. “You should’ve. I’d’ve chipped a tooth.”_

_“I don’t want to forget you.”_

_She offered him a hand to pull him to his feet. “Then don’t.”_

_“It’s not that simple,” Yasha objected._

_“Try it. Just tell yourself, ‘I’ll remember Natalya’ every day.”_

_“I’ll remember Natalya,” he repeated. “You’re my only friend.”_

_“Well, I’ll remember you,” she promised. “Maybe that will be enough.”_

***

Bucky wandered into the bathroom while Steve was shaving. Steve’s eyes flickered to Bucky’s reflection, standing in the doorway like a ghost. Bucky took it as an invitation to come closer; he walked up behind Steve and slipped one arm around his waist. He rested his cheek between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“What will they do with me if something happens to you?”

“They’ll take care of you,” Steve answered. “I give Stark a hard time, but he’s not a bad person. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

“They don’t like me. Nick, Clint and Phil all despise me. Natasha says she doesn’t hate me but…”

“She’s a tough read,” Steve acknowledged. He set his razor on the edge of the sink and turned towards Bucky. He cupped Bucky’s face in his hands. “Look, if the worst thing happens and I don’t come back at all, they will take care of you. They’ll keep you safe, I promise you that.”

***

_Two years passed before Natalya saw the Winter Soldier again._

_“Soldat,” Petrovich clapped him on the shoulder as he sat down. “Your next mission, you will have a shadow. One of the Widow initiates will be your apprentice.”_

_“Yes sir,” Yasha replied without looking up from his soup._

_“Teach her what she needs to know, how to do the work. You can fuck her if you want. If she gets killed on a mission, shit happens.” Petrovich shrugged. “If it looks like she will fall captive to an enemy, you kill her.”_

_“Yes sir.”_

_“Here she is.” Petrovich waved one hand. “You’ll like her. She’s sharp. I leave you to it.”_

_The Winter Soldier’s new apprentice was young, pretty, with red hair pulled into a sleek bun._

_“Hello Yasha,” she said warmly. “It’s Natalya.”_

***

"Kind of hard to go over the plan when Stark's asleep," Steve complained. 

"The plan is pretty simple," Clint replied. "Get in, get the kid, get out. Besides, he's been up 42 hours straight building 3-year-old scale armor."

"He made the girl a suit?"

"He even traded the red for pink. It's pretty frickin adorable." Clint chuckled. 

"Madeleine says she doesn't know much English. We're basically a bunch of strangers; she may try to run from us,” Phil advised. 

“This plan keeps getting better,” Steve groused. 

“You ever worked with kids?” Clint asked.

Steve shook his head. 

“Maybe she’ll like your uniform.”

***

_He didn’t remember her. She tried not to feel let down. She persevered by acting extra familiar, dropping in jokes they used to tell, filling their interactions with light touches and phrases often used before. Eleven days in, Yasha suddenly looked at her and frowned._

_“You used to have one tooth that was crooked.”_

_She ran her tongue over her left canine and nodded; a smile played at the corners of her mouth._

_“They fixed it.” He sounded disappointed. “It made your smile unique.”_

_“Does that mean you don’t like my smile anymore?” Natalya asked._

_“No.” He shook his head. “It just takes some getting used to.”_

***

“Stark,” Clint called. He gently shook Tony’s shoulder. “We’re close.”

“Suit up,” Phil said. “Give us the lay of the land.”

The land was about 6 hectares of pasture and farmland near Perreuil. Tony donned his armor to do a flyover of the main buildings: a stable, a barn and a stone farmhouse. There were some unoccupied livestock pens. Four black SUVs were parked outside the main house. It was about five o’clock in the morning local time and the place seemed pretty quiet. 

Tony reported everything back to the team over his communicator. Natasha set the jet down in one of the disused fields. 

“Alright,” Phil said. “The next patrol should be through in-“

“Fifteen minutes or so,” Natasha finished. “Don’t worry, I’ll be off the ground before then.”

“Stay safe.”

***

_Yasha whimpered in his sleep. For three months, Natalya had spent nearly every moment following him. They trained together, ate together and now, holed up in a safe house in Beirut, she slept a few feet away. He loosed a strangled cry and his arm twitched. Natalya sat up and looked at him in the moonlight. He had a deep crease between his brows and his eyelids fluttered. She crept over to him and lightly placed her hand on his chest. He shuddered._

_“Yasha,” she whispered. He was still, his breathing deep and steady. The lines smoothed from his face. She withdrew her hand and he whined, turning his head towards her. Natalya hesitated a moment before easing herself down next to him. She curled up at his side and draped her arm across his chest. Eventually, she drifted back to sleep._

_Yasha seldom remembered his dreams. It was no surprise, he seldom remembered anything. What he recalled, if he recalled anything, was usually little more than feelings: pain, fear, loss, loneliness, all accompanied by the sensation of falling. As he began to wake, he was aware of the warm weight of another person lying with him. He wriggled closer, his arms pulling her in. He breathed in the smell of her hair. A faint smile crossed his lips. He fought off waking so he could continue to snuggle her, but consciousness was persistent. He became aware of two separate facts nearly simultaneously. The first was that he had an erection. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up in such a state, but it was a little awkward when his best friend was laying half on top of him. The second was that Natalya was pretending to be asleep._

_“Hey,” Yasha whispered._

_“Mm.” Natalya didn’t move._

_“Hey, I know you’re awake,” Yasha said a little louder. He tried to move away without making it obvious why he was moving._

_She looked up at him. “You have nightmares.”_

_He nodded. Her hair was a mess. Makeup, carefully applied for the mission the night before, had run and smudged while they slept. He wanted to kiss her. “Don’t you?” he asked, turning away from her to get up._

_“Doesn’t everyone?”_

***

It took twelve minutes to reach the house from the field. “Two doors,” Tony said, “Front and back. Plus windows.”

“Two at the front door, two at the back, two in through the windows to sweep the top floor,” Phil instructed. 

“If I can get a lift,” Sam offered. “I’ll take a window.”

“You got it.” Tony slipped his hands under Sam’s arms. 

Phil and Steve took the back door, Clint and Nick took the front. 

“On my mark,” Phil stated. 

Natasha unbuckled her seatbelt. She ducked out of the cockpit, leaving her cane behind, and hid behind the bulkhead. She screwed a suppressor onto her pistol and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. 

“Il y a un avion,” a male voice called out. 

“Hey in there,” another shouted. “You are trespassing. Come out with your hands up.”

The team breeched the house just as an alarm was raised. They scrambled to find places to hide as the Hydra agents rushed to the vehicles outside. 

“Where’s everyone going?” Steve asked. 

“To our jet,” Phil answered. “Goddammit, Natasha. Find the girl.” He flicked on his comm. “Find the girl, now.”

***

_For four months, Yasha had been resisting the urge to kiss Natalya. Everything she said and did made his heart pound. Something had changed that morning in Beirut and he couldn’t put his finger on what. He woke up alone in Caracas. Frowning, he headed into the bathroom. The sound of running water didn’t register until he opened the door._

_There was no curtain on the shower; Yasha was confronted by the sight of Natalya naked beneath its spray._

_“I thought I locked that.” She made no effort to cover herself._

_Yasha shook the doorknob. “I think the lock’s broken.”_

_There was a scar on her breast. There was a four-day-old bruise high on her inner thigh. Her nipples were the same shade of pink as her lips. Yasha backed out of the bathroom and shut the door._

***

“Do you want me to head back?” Tony offered.

“Find the girl,” Phil insisted. 

The house wasn’t that big. “She’s not here,” Steve declared.

“Check the barn, check the stable,” Phil replied. 

“Look for a cellar,” Natasha advised over the comm. 

“A cellar?”

“Man with a gun to his head says she’s in the cellar,” Natasha confirmed. 

Phil rubbed his temples. 

“I’ve got her,” Clint called out. “I’ve got her.”

***

“What happened to staying with the goddamned jet?” Phil shouted. 

“Here I am,” Natasha replied. “Right here, with the goddamned jet.”

Phil’s nostrils flared.

“Stark, left engine’s out again, I thought you fixed that?”

“I did,” Tony said defensively. 

“Well it’s out again.” Natasha looked at Phil. “I couldn’t get her off the ground, I did the next best thing.”

“Called for backup?” Phil retorted. “No. You risked your life, you risked the whole mission, you risked her life,” he pointed at Simone. “Because you were too stubborn to ask for help.”

“You knew the engine was bad when we set down, didn’t you?” Clint asked, trying to keep his tone as non-confrontational as possible. 

“I knew the engine was bad when we left New York, we didn’t have time-“

“Then you should’ve said something in New York,” Phil bellowed. 

“I can wire in one of the repulsor units from my suit,” Tony interjected. “It’ll get us to Paris, but we’ll need a few days for real repairs before we can take her back across the Atlantic.”

“A few days?” Steve echoed.

“Romanov’s right, anything more than a Band-Aid fix is going to take…days,” Tony answered.

“I can’t leave Bucky alone at the tower for a few days,” Steve objected.

“Then I’ll charter you a flight back,” Tony replied. “And anyone else, I can do the repairs myself.”

Natasha glowered at Phil. “Are you staying or going?”

“Going,” he said decisively. “I have a job to get back to.”

“Fine, I’m staying. I love Paris in the springtime.”

***

Madeleine made flight arrangements for Steve, Sam, Phil and Clint and hotel arrangements for Tony, Natasha and Nick. She thanked each of them at least a dozen times.

"Can I ask you something?" Natasha began. 

"Sure," Nick answered cautiously. 

"Did you sleep with Madeleine?"

Nick paused. "Not recently."

Natasha studied him. 

"Yes, twice, a long time ago," he elaborated. 

That answer seemed to satisfy Natasha. 

"My turn," Nick said. "Did you sleep with Barnes?"

"What?"

"James Buchanan Barnes, did you sleep with him?"

"Not recently. Yes, a long time ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough translations courtesy of google, Yasha's nicknames are - in order - "Soldier" "Dog" "Bastard"


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. Just total fucking porn. Plot to resume in chapter 18.

_Natalya emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. It didn’t cover nearly enough. Yasha could still see water droplets, glistening like diamonds on her long, thin, legs. She sat down next to him and the towel rode up and he looked away quickly._

_“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You want me to go first?”_

_“I don’t want to want you,” Yasha exclaimed. “You’re my partner, you’re my friend. You’re my only friend. I don’t want to gamble that away by sleeping with you.”_

_“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” she admitted. She kissed him, soft and timid at first but rising quickly. As he pulled her closer, the towel fell away. His hands travelled over her skin, stroking, squeezing._

_“I don’t want to hurt you,” he panted._

_“Then don’t.”_

***

“I don’t have feelings for him anymore,” Natasha stated. Nick gave her a dubious look. “I don’t love him,” she clarified. “I don’t know even know what I feel. I want to hate him but I can’t.”

“Do you want to be with him?” There was no anger or accusation in Nick’s voice.

“No.” Natasha shook her head.

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

She kissed him. “I want you to touch me,” she whispered. 

His hands were gentle, warm, a little calloused, but patient, and kind. He undressed her slowly, piece by piece. He laid kisses on each part of her skin as it was revealed. She had no such patience, clawing his shirt off, leaving marks on his back as she did. 

“I’ve missed you,” she confessed.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Nick let her take the lead. Natasha stripped him bare, laid him out on the bed, and retrieved a condom from somewhere within her discarded clothes. She stroked his dick lightly at first. "Do you want me?" She asked teasingly. 

"Yes," he gasped. "God, yes, I want you."

Natasha rolled the rubber on to him and straddled him. She rubbed herself against the hard length of his cock, grinding on him. She guided him to the entrance of her sex and slid down around him with a moan. 

"Take what you want from me," Nick gasped encouragingly. 

"Don't worry," Natasha smirked. "I will." She leaned down to kiss him and whisper in his ear. "But you know I won't leave you wanting."

It was good to see her retaking control. It was even better watching her pleasure herself with his body. His hands came up to her breasts, caressing and teasing her nipples. She kept one hand on the mattress to support her weight; the other crept between her legs, her fingers reaching between their bodies, finding the sensitive bud of her clit and stroking to the rhythm of her undulating hips. She collapsed onto his chest as she came, shaking. Nick ran his hand over her hair, gently tilted her head so she was looking up at him, and kissed her deeply. He wrapped one arm around her and used the other to push himself up slowly to sitting. Natasha shifted her weight a little to wrap her legs around his hips as he moved. The change in position slid him deeper into her and she moaned. Face to face, she sighed as he rocked his hips. She met his gaze as pleasure coiled deep in her core, compounding in intensity. Her nails dug crescents into his shoulders but she didn’t close her eyes or look away. 

***

_Yasha quickly peeled off his clothes, kissing and touching Natalya as much as possible as he did. She leaned back, pulling him down on top of her. He kissed her in earnest, and she cried out into his mouth as he entered her._

_“You okay?” he whispered. Natalya nodded and put her hands on his hips, pulling him in deeper. She watched his eyes flutter and his face go slack for a moment. A smile played at Natalya’s lips. They all knew how pain could be used to control another person, how quickly she’d learned that desire could do the same._

_Yasha was acting on instinct, he had no memory of having been with a woman before, but his body seemed to know what to do. He moaned into her ear, his breath hot against her skin; his hips moved of their own accord, seeking friction._

_“Oh, God, Natalya,” Yasha panted._

_Natalya felt a flutter of warmth, pleasure sputtering to life where their bodies joined. She writhed beneath him, striving for more, fanning the sparks. “Yes,” she squeaked. She broke down like an overwound clock, clenching around him with a strangled keening cry._

_Yasha grunted, muffling his mouth against her neck, and came inside her. They were both trembling, both gasping for breath. He fell to the floor next to her and gathered her in his arms. "I love you," he panted. His racing pulse began to slow. His breath began to even out. "I love you," Yasha repeated._

_Natalya shuddered against him. "I love you."_

***

“Lay me down,” Natasha whispered huskily. “Fuck me hard. Make me forget the rest of the world exists.”

Nick maneuvered so he could stay inside her as she leaned back onto the mattress. “What world?” he murmured. He mixed gentle touches and tender kisses with deep, powerful thrusts. He was mindful not to lose himself in pleasure, he focused on her breathing, watched her eyes to make sure she was still present, still enjoying. Natasha basked in the attention. Everything outside the hotel room faded into nothingness. Natasha climaxed again, and Nick let himself go with her. She smiled to hear her name on his lips when he came. He held the condom in place as he pulled out and fell onto the mattress beside her.

“Shit,” Natasha swore. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

“It’s all right,” Nick replied with a light chuckle. “I love you too. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Will you really?” Natasha asked.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

***

The bartender set a fresh martini in front of Tony. “From the redhead at the end of the bar.”

Tony looked down to see Natasha watching him. He picked up the drink and joined her. “You hitting on me?” he asked. 

“I’m thanking you,” she said as he sat down.

“Because Bruce, Pepper and I have a very special arrangement, but I think I could talk them into this.”

“I mean it; I appreciate you covering for me with Phil.”

“Why’d you lie about the engine?” Tony asked.

Natasha shrugged. “Why’d you play along?”

“I’m not going to pretend to know what your fucked up childhood was like,” Tony answered. “But, I was eight the first time somebody kidnapped me to get their hands on Dad’s money.” He sipped the martini. “Didn’t work. Took about a day and a half for me to contact the police and get myself rescued. Dad never negotiated with kidnappers.” He toyed with the skewer, rolling the olive around the rim of the glass. “Took a long time to shake the feeling that he would’ve just let them keep me if Mom hadn’t pitched a fit.” He took another drink. “How’d your mom die?”

There was the trademark Stark bluntness. “House fire.”

“Olive?”

Natasha shook her head. 

“What about your dad?” Tony pressed. 

“Never met him.”

“Lucky.” Tony popped the olive into his mouth, pulling the skewer out slowly. “Ready to head back to New York tomorrow?”

“If you think you can have the quinjet up and flying by then,” Natasha teased. 

“Vacation’s over,” he said with a grin. “When are you moving into my tower?”

Natasha laughed. “Not going to happen.”

***


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha sings, Thor returns and tragedy strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implied/referenced pedophilia, description of injuries

“I hate the world today. You’re so good to me, I know, but I can’t change. Try to tell you but you look at me like maybe I’m an angel underneath. Innocent and sweet.” Natasha looked up from beneath her eyelashes, doing her best approximation of innocent and sweet. It was pretty convincing. “Yesterday I cried. Must’ve been relieved to see the softer side. I can understand how you’d be so confused, I don’t envy you, I’m a little bit of everything all rolled into one. I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner, I’m a saint. I do not feel ashamed.”

Tony leaned over to Clint. “How’d you get her to sing?”

“She lost a bet,” Clint replied.

“You guys might have a gambling problem,” Steve observed.

***

_Yasha was waiting in her room when Natalya walked in. The dress she wore was spring green, covered in ruffles, so short he could see glimpses of her underwear when she moved and everything below her waist when she raised her arms to pull the bow out of her hair._

_“You look ridiculous in that frock,” he remarked._

_Natalya looked down like she wasn’t entirely sure what she was wearing and shrugged. “Anatoly likes it.”_

_“You’re getting a little old for his tastes, aren’t you?”_

_“Apparently his preference for redheads outweighs his other predilections.” She removed the dress carefully and arranged it on a hanger. Without the dress, she looked even more ridiculous: white patent flats, socks with lace around the cuffs, a sports bra to flatten out her breasts, white panties with yellow butterflies and an obvious wet spot on the back, making them sheer enough that he could see the shadow between the cheeks of her butt. Yasha crossed his arms over his chest._

_“Don’t sulk,” Natalya chided gently._

_“Don’t sleep with other men,” he retorted._

_Natalya shook her head as she took off her shoes. “I didn’t sleep with Anatoly. I sat on his lap and recited nursery rhymes.”_

_“You sleep with the others.”_

_She set the shoes in the closet and tossed the socks into a laundry basket. “Only when there’s no alternative.”_

_“I’m the alternative,” Yasha insisted. “Come to me instead of going to them.” He pushed off the wall and began to pace. “I heard Ilya and Vladislav talking about you at dinner tonight. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that they can have you whenever they want and I get you whenever it’s convenient for you.”_

_“Do you think I wouldn’t rather be here?” Natalya asked, peeling off the sports bra. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Don’t you think that I would choose you every time if they offered me a choice?”_

_“Don’t you see that it is a choice? You go to them willingly enough.”_

_“They’ll separate us,” Natalya said in a soft voice. “If I anger them, they’ll take you away from me and me away from you. They’ll make you forget.”_

_“I’ll remember, Natalya.”_

_“I am choosing you. When I go to the others, it’s because I’m choosing you.”_

_Yasha’s expression softened, the line between his brows faded as he approached her. “I’m sorry. You’re trying to protect us.”_

_“I love only you.” She looked up at his face._

_He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and knelt, running his palms down her legs and pulling the fabric down with him. “Let’s forget about them.”_

*** 

Natasha returned to the table when her song was finished and glared daggers at Clint. “You will pay for this.”

“Don’t write checks you aren’t prepared to cash,” he replied. “Your voice isn’t bad; I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal.”

“You sounded better than I usually do,” Phil added. 

“Your problem isn’t your voice, it’s your confidence,” Natasha said.

“Alright, so what’s it going to take to get you up there, Nick?” Clint segued. 

“An act of God.”

“Steve?” Clint prompted.

“Hm?” Steve looked up guiltily. “Me? Sing? No.”

“We could do a duet,” Bucky offered quietly. 

“You want to get up there and sing in front of everybody?” Steve sounded surprised. 

“Nevermind, forget it,” Bucky said quickly.

“I just, I don’t know any of these songs,” Steve gestured to the book of selections. 

“They have ‘They Can’t Take That Away from Me’, surely that’s in your repertoire,” Natasha suggested. 

“I do know it,” Steve admitted.

Bucky’s eyes were bright, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he waited for Steve to decide. 

Clint sidled up to Phil. “We could do a duet.”

Tony looked expectantly at Bruce and Pepper. Bruce shook his head quickly. Pepper laughed. “No.” 

“I’ll let you pick the song,” Tony offered. Pepper examined him with a studious frown. 

“Pass me the book.”

***

For three months, Steve had slept on the floor in the guest bedroom of his apartment in Avengers’ Tower. He couldn’t, in good conscience, call it a guest bedroom anymore. There was a permanent guest. It was Bucky’s room. Eventually, Steve resumed sleeping in his own bed, waking at one in the morning to listen for Bucky’s cries, and going in to comfort him and lay with him. One night he woke to the subtle movement of the mattress as Bucky crawled into his bed. 

“How long are we going to keep this up?” Bucky whispered. 

“Keep what up?” Steve mumbled back sleepily. 

“Separate beds in separate rooms,” Bucky answered. 

“I didn’t want to presume,” Steve began to stammer. 

“You’re dragging your feet like always,” Bucky replied, pulling Steve to him for a kiss. 

“I’m taking things slow,” Steve objected, pressing his palm to Bucky’s chest. 

“You used to like it when I took things fast,” Bucky reminded him. Steve was glad they were lying down because he suddenly felt weak in the knees. Steve nodded mutely, not trusting his voice and leaned in for a kiss. 

*** 

“So now we’re fighting plus sized Smurfs?” Tony said. A blue-skinned, red-eyed giant swung its fist at him. 

“You made it angry,” Clint observed. An arrow glanced off the creature’s shoulder. “I’m not doing much damage here.” 

“They don’t seem too fond of electricity.” Natasha tossed a taser disc onto one of the monsters. 

“They are vulnerable to heat,” Thor’s voice boomed out. 

“Thor!” The others all exclaimed his name, nearly in unison, and with a similar amount of enthusiasm. 

“They are Frost Giants, from Jotunheim,” Thor continued. 

“Heat, electricity…” Tony began marking off weaknesses. Hulk landed directly on top of one and it seemed to shatter. “Severe blunt force trauma.” 

“Do not let them touch you,” Thor warned. 

Steve’s shield ricocheted off an ice shield one of the Jotuns had created, leaving barely a crack. “Okay, I have nothing against these guys.” 

Clint was swapping to incendiary arrowheads. 

“Then you evac these buildings,” Nick ordered. “Get civilians to safety.” 

One of the creatures grabbed Bucky’s left arm and Steve rushed forward, striking it with the edge of his shield until it let go. He turned to check on Bucky. 

“German engineering,” Bucky laughed, tapping his metal shoulder. “I’m fine.” 

Steve stayed at Bucky’s side as they continued fighting. Thor and Hulk were undoubtedly doing the most damage to their foes, and Thor’s warning about not touching or being touched by the Jotuns didn’t seem to apply to Hulk. Bullets didn’t seem to hurt the Frost Giants but they certainly didn’t like being shot. As their numbers began to dwindle, the sky shimmered. 

“They are retreating,” Thor declared. The Frost Giants were gone as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving a still-irate Hulk picking himself out of the rubble of a building. 

“Roll call, anyone hurt?” Steve called out. “Bucky?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Minor armor damage, no injuries,” Tony reported. 

“Fine,” Clint answered distractedly as he began picking up arrows that hadn’t been damaged and could be reused. 

“Widow?” Steve prompted. 

Natasha was staring at the building Hulk had destroyed. “Did you clear out this building?” 

“What? No, I-“ Steve began. 

Clint looked up the street and down the street. “Isn’t that your building, Tasha?” 

Hulk growled as she approached but Natasha ignored him. 

“Linda?” She called out. “Linda, it’s Natalie, can you hear me?” 

“Who’s Linda?” Tony asked quietly. 

“Lives across the hall, former SHIELD, rarely leaves her apartment, has service dog named Pancakes,” Clint rattled off. “Brought Natasha egg drop soup when she had the flu.” 

“And thinks her name is Natalie, got it.” Tony remarked. “Okay, we need to start moving debris carefully. If there’s someone in there, we don’t want this to collapse on top of them. I’ll run interference for the big guy.” He opened up his faceplate and whistled. Hulk looked up and began to follow the red and gold armor. 

It was slow going, moving chunks of wall and ceiling. Steve heard the whining first. “Did you say there was a dog?” He started working towards the noise. As he lifted a door labeled 2B, a filthy, tan-colored dog ran out. It barked once at Steve and began nosing around the area it had slipped out of. 

“That’s Pancakes,” Natasha called out. She quickly collared the dog, keeping it out of the way. Fire trucks and ambulances had arrived at the scene and several more people were making their way through the wreckage. 

“Thor, give me a hand with this,” Steve requested. The two of them slowly lifted what appeared to be most of the second floor hallway ceiling. As soon as it was high enough, Clint eased under it. 

“Clear that off, move it away from the street,” Clint shouted. 

“Did you find her?” Natasha yelled back. 

“Stay back!” Clint answered. “Hang on…” He wriggled back out, surveying the remains of the building. “Okay, we’re going to have to move this piece here,” he gestured. “I think I can get them out if you get this out of the way.” 

“Them?” Natasha asked. She looked around, taking inventory, and suddenly went pale. 

“I got a pulse on both of them,” Clint said quickly. 

Bucky stepped up to help Steve and Thor hoist the debris Clint had indicated. Paramedics scurried past. Clint kept trying to redirect Natasha’s attention. She winced when the stretcher with Nick passed by. 

“He’s going to be fine,” Clint assured her. She put his hand on the dog’s collar. 

“I’m going in the ambulance with him.” 

Steve and Thor stayed to work on combing through the rest of the debris. Clint caught up with Bruce and Tony and offered to take Bruce back to the tower so Tony could do search and rescue with the others. It was a Tuesday afternoon, most of the apartment building’s residents were at work. 

“What’s with the dog?” Bruce asked as he and Clint walked to the tower. 

“Her name’s Pancakes and she needs a bath.” 

*** 

_Yasha wasn’t sure why he’d wakened. He didn’t remember falling asleep. His life felt more and more disjointed, with memories going missing and time elapsing without his knowledge or permission. There was something crumpled in the corner of his room on the floor. A frown creased his forehead as Yasha slowly got out of bed. He blinked forcefully, trying to make his eyes adjust more quickly to the darkness. As he padded quietly across the cold floor, he became aware of breathing other than his own. He rushed to the light switch and turned it on, spinning to examine the room. His gaze landed on the heap in the corner. It had pale skin and red hair._

_“Natalya,” he gasped. He nearly tripped over his feet in his hurry to get to her._

_Natalya shied away from his touch._

_“It’s me,” Yasha said softly._

_She turned her face towards him hesitantly. Her right eye was swollen nearly shut, there were bruises on her throat that were obviously fingerprints._

_“Shit,” he whispered. “What happened?”_

_She stared at him, her lower lip trembling. Yasha had never seen her so close to tears._

_“Come to bed,” Yasha urged. “Come on, it’s freezing. I won’t let anything else happen to you.” He backed away a few steps, letting her come to him on her own terms. Whatever had happened, whoever had hurt her, they’d evidently also scared her half to death. “Please?” he said softly._

_Natalya inched forward and Yasha swooped in and gathered her in his arms._

*** 

It was dusk when Jarvis alerted Pepper, Bruce and Phil that the others were on their way back to the tower. Pepper had sent Clint out for beer when she discovered Thor was in town. At Jarvis's word, she started ordering pizzas. Pancakes seemed to have adopted Bruce, sitting on his feet any time he stopped moving. Tony, Steve and Bucky were all exhausted when they arrived, but Thor was full of jubilant energy. While the others headed to their respective apartments to clean up, Thor wrapped Phil into a hug so tight that Phil felt something pop. Clint returned with beer just in time. Tony returned to the common floor rec room, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt, his hair damp and unstyled. 

"Food?" 

"On its way," Pepper promised. "I can't get it here any faster." 

"What'd we get?" 

"Pizza," she answered. "It felt like a pizza night." 

Tony nodded approvingly and settled on the arm of the couch next to Bruce, rubbing Bruce's shoulders. "Weight of the world," Tony remarked. 

Bruce didn't respond. 

The pizzas arrived around the same time that Steve and Bucky came up from their apartment. "We should throw on a movie or something." 

"I'm thinking game night, cards and carts?" Clint suggested. 

"I'm not playing Mario Cart with you hooligans," Pepper declared. "I'm up for cards though." 

"Cards Against Humanity?" Tony bartered. 

"Oh please, let's not introduce Thor to Cards Against Humanity," Phil pleaded. "He won't understand half of it and we'll probably cause an inter-galactic incident." 

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" Thor asked. 

"Apples?" Tony offered. 

"Still a high rate of Midgardian Modern pop culture, bad for probably three of the group," Phil pointed out. 

"Poker?" Tony suggested in desperation. 

"I hardly know her!" Clint interjected. He was greeted by groans and rolled eyes. 

Thor ended up playing Mario Cart with Bruce, Tony and Bucky while Steve, Phil, Clint and Pepper played Hearts. Leftover pizza had been put away, conversations wound down and everyone settled in to watch a movie when Jarvis informed them that Natasha was on the premises. 

Phil stood as the elevator opened and turned to face her. “How’s Nick?” 

She could feel all of their eyes on her. It weighed on her like the dirt on her skin. She took a deep breath. “Not good,” she managed. “He broke most of the ribs on his right side, his lung collapsed.” The words came one by one. “I guess there’s scar tissue in his lung from when he was shot and it’s causing complications.” 

Bruce seemed to shrink in his chair and Tony put a hand high on his shoulder, fingertips caressing the nape of his neck, where his hair curled against the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said quietly. “He told me to clear out the building.” He shook his head. “I blew him off.” 

“There’s swelling around his spine,” Natasha said, ignoring Steve completely. “Like, behind the ribcage, and head trauma and they don’t know how bad any of it is. They took him into surgery. They said it’d be a few hours and I thought I should…” she trailed off blankly. 

“I’m going to need your measurements,” Pepper proclaimed. Natasha looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Do you have clothes? Of course not, your apartment is trashed. Give me your measurements, eat food – If you don’t want reheated pizza, I’m sure one of the boys can cook something for you – and take a long, hot shower. By the time you get out, I’ll be back with fresh clothes for you.” 

“Oh. Okay,” Natasha stammered. 

“Then get some rest and one of us will drive you to the hospital.” Pepper had taken charge and there was no stopping her. 

Phil had his phone out. “I’ll get you measurements,” he said quickly. 

“Okay, on a scale of one to Buffalo Bill, how creepy is it that Coulson knows Romanov’s measurements?” Tony asked. 

“I don’t know them,” Phil replied. “They’re on file.” 

“Eh, like a three,” Tony mused. 

“You need to be calling Hector and telling him to open up shop for me.” Pepper elbowed Tony none too gently in the ribs. She slipped on her shoes and gathered up her purse. 

Clint headed into the kitchen and began collecting ingredients on the countertop. “Thor? If there are chocolate chip pancakes, will you eat some?” 

“Yes,” Thor answered without hesitation. Pancakes raised her head briefly at the mention of her name, and then went back to resting on Bruce’s feet. Bruce managed to disengage from the dog and disappeared to stock Natasha’s apartment with linens. There was furniture, but no sheets or towels, both of which were soon to be essential. 

Bucky gave Steve’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered. 

*** 

Linda’s sister came to the tower to get Pancakes. Clint and Pepper met her in the lobby with the dog. 

“I wanted to thank you for taking care of Pancakes and for everything really.” 

“It’s the least we could do,” Pepper replied. “In fact, I’d like to do more. I’m working with the billing department at the hospital to cover Linda’s bill there, but I’d also like to take care of any other expenses relating to relocating and having to replace the contents of her apartment. Just let me know how much.” 

“Oh my. You really don’t have to…” 

“I insist.” Pepper gave the woman a very serious look. 

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll let Linda know. I understand the man who saved her is still in pretty bad shape.” 

“He is,” Pepper confirmed. 

“Well, I’ll pray for him. And if I can do anything else, let me know.” 

“We will,” Clint promised. 

She took Pancakes’ leash and headed out of the building. 

“I’m going to kind of miss the dog,” Clint admitted. 

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a considerable amount of in-my-head backstory for Linda, none of which is (or will be or was intended to be) included in the story. Is that weird? Pancakes is a golden retriever/standard poodle mix. Linda's sister is named Ashley and their childhood dog was a cocker spaniel named Waffles. Did you need to know that? Does that enhance the story at all? Nope, but it's part of my head canon. 
> 
> Also, the song Natasha is singing is Bitch by Meredith Brooks.


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha moves in, Bruce is a godsend, Natasha is right (as usual) and everybody gets some except her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: references to suicidal thoughts.

Natasha moving into the tower was a non-event. She spent nearly every waking moment at the hospital, stopping by for a shower and a nap and occasionally a meal. She always showed up with a bag. First were little necessities for the bathroom: shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, a hairdryer. She stocked the kitchen with plates and cutlery and pots and pans. Her wardrobe began filling up. Books appeared on the bookshelves. 

Thor returned to Asgard. Nick began breathing unassisted. They fought a pyromaniac arsonist in a hideous orange suit. They fought an obnoxious, loud-mouthed mercenary. 

Natasha was in the common-floor kitchen with Phil when Bruce and Tony came down from the lab. 

“You’re joining us for dinner?” Tony asked. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“He kicked me out. I’m under orders not to return to the hospital until I’ve had-“

“Two meals and at least six consecutive hours of sleep,” Phil finished her sentence in unison with her. “She’s not happy,” he mouthed. 

“Those sound like good things,” Bruce said. 

“I think she threatened a nurse, but she won’t confess,” Clint shared, yelling from the entertainment room. 

“He has a cough that’s getting worse, and I can tell it hurts when he coughs, but nobody but me is worried about it,” Natasha snapped back. 

“I can go over there after dinner and have a listen,” Bruce offered. “I’m not an MD and I can’t overrule his doctor, but I’ve treated plenty of illnesses anyway. I can give you my opinion on whether or not it’s worth you worrying about.”

“You’d do that?” Natasha perked up. 

“Of course,” Bruce replied. “It’s no trouble.” 

“Thank you.” 

“We’re just putting together salad and waiting on the oven,” Phil said. “You guys can go sit down.” He gestured towards the rec room. 

Clint grabbed Bruce as he walked through the door. “You are a godsend,” he said quietly. 

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Tony remarked, picking up the remote and turning on the tv. 

“She’s been driving us both nuts all afternoon complaining about the hospital,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. 

“Is that how you’ve been responding?” Bruce asked.

“What?”

“You seem a bit…dismissive.”

“She’s overreacting. It’s the only kind of reacting Nat does in a situation like this,” Clint replied. “And apparently she’s driving Nick nuts too if he gave her the boot.”

“She’s concerned,” Bruce answered defensively. “And she should be. Hospitals are rife with infectious diseases and understaffed as well. They’re really not good places for anyone sick or injured, except of course that’s where the doctors and medicines and equipment are.”

Tony suddenly looked towards the kitchen. “Ooh, they’re getting out the wine. I should see if they need help.”

Pepper, Steve and Bucky came in as Phil was setting the table. 

“If you have any questions, you can ask me. I won’t tease you,” Pepper promised.

“I just don’t see why I couldn’t keep using my old phone,” Steve replied. 

“You just said it,” Tony interjected. “Old phone.”

“It was eight months old,” Steve retorted. 

“There’s a newer model available,” Tony justified.

Bucky looked at Pepper. “How long have you two been together?”

“Very funny.” Tony gave a slightly-nervous laugh. “There is no newer model of Pepper.”

Phil was getting lasagna and garlic bread out of the oven while Clint and Pepper set the table and Natasha poured glasses of wine. 

"You know," Steve began, "I wanted to apologize again. I can't stop thinking that it should have been me in that building when it came down."

"Why?" Natasha asked. "So you could be hospitalized instead? No one wants that, Steve."

"But I wouldn't be," Steve objected. "For a day maybe. I could've been hospitalized, released, hurt again and hospitalized and released again by now."

Natasha froze and fixed a cold stare on Steve. 

“Okay, I’m guessing that didn’t come out the way I intended,” Steve said nervously. 

“You know, if you really want to apologize, you should go up to the hospital and do it right,” she finally said.

“I’m going after dinner if you want to tag along,” Bruce offered. 

“I’ll go too,” Phil interjected. 

“That sounds great,” Steve stammered. 

“For now, let’s eat,” Clint suggested. “Food is getting cold.”

***

Steve tended to think of Nick Fury as a man who dwarfed his surroundings, a massive force with which to be reckoned. He looked small in the hospital bed with the sheet pulled up to his chest. He was unshaven, he’d lost weight, and his skin seemed dull and too loose. He looked them over with familiar irritation.

“Did Romanov send you?” Nick demanded.

“No, of course not,” Phil replied indignantly.

“Yes,” Bruce admitted easily. “She’s very persuasive.” 

“I…guess so,” Steve stammered. “I should’ve come on my own but…”

“What for?” Nick asked. Phil gave Steve a pointed glance. 

“Oh. Me? I wanted to apologize.” Steve took a step forward, inching closer to the bed. “If I’d evacuated that building, like you asked me to, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“What’s done is done,” Nick replied with a shrug. “You learn anything?”

“Follow orders?”

“Hell no,” Nick snorted. “I’ve read the stories. You didn’t go from Captain Rogers to Captain Fucking America by following orders. But I do, occasionally, know shit that you don’t.”

“By occasionally, he means always,” Phil interjected. 

Fury shrugged again and didn’t disagree. “I have my reasons. And if you question orders before you ignore them, I might even share those reasons with you. I forgive you. Feel better?”

“I’ll feel better when you do, sir,” Steve replied.

“That’s real sweet, Rogers. Banner, what about you?”

“Natasha said you’ve had a cough,” Bruce began. 

“It’s nothing.” He dropped his head back against the pillow, rolling his eyes.

“Sometimes people just want to feel listened to,” Bruce replied. “She’s worried, so I’m here with my stethoscope.” He held up the instrument and waggled it at Nick. “To listen. What’s the harm in not completely trivializing her concerns?”

“Listen away,” Nick sighed. He had to pick his battles; he certainly didn’t have the strength to fight all of them. He patiently inhaled and exhaled on command and tried not to cough while Bruce listened to his chest. 

Bruce frowned as he tucked his stethoscope away. “I need to make a phone call, excuse me.”

Phil shot Steve a look and Steve quickly muttered something about needing air. He closed the door on his way out into hall, fast on Bruce’s heels. 

“Why’d you banish Natasha to the tower?” Phil wasted no time once they were alone.

“You make me sound like a wicked queen,” Nick said with a snort. 

“I’m serious.”

“She hates hospitals,” Nick answered. “You know that. I know that. This is no place for her.”

“It’s where you are,” Phil reasoned.

“Well, maybe that’s no place for her either.”

“What’s going on?” Phil demanded. “You’re pushing her away. You’re starting out slowly but I can see what’s coming. Why?”

Nick’s gaze went to a wheelchair sitting in the corner of the room. Phil followed with his eyes. 

“My doctor isn’t particularly optimistic about my potential recovery,” Nick admitted. “If I were a dog, they’d put me down.”

“You’re not a dog,” Phil said insistently. 

“That’s not a life I want for her,” Nick’s voice was low and soft. “Still deciding if it’s one I want for me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Phil frowned. “Don’t even think that.” He shook his head. “She loves you. Losing you would be bad enough, but losing you like that…”

“She deserves better.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

They were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. “I mean it,” Phil emphasized as he opened the door. 

Bruce stepped back into the room with a weak smile. “I have good news and bad news…”

“If you have good news, you’re the only one in this place,” Nick remarked. “Let’s have it.”

“You’re moving back to the tower. Tony promised he’d have a full medical staff lined up by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why?”

“That’s the bad news,” Bruce answered. “That cough your doctor wasn’t worried about? You have pneumonia. How insufferable is Natasha when she's right?”

“She’s always right,” Nick muttered, shaking his head. 

***

Phil flopped down onto the couch, feeling the weight of the world. He turned on the tv and found something mind numbing to stare at. Clint padded into the living room with a towel around his waist. Phil straightened up and looked Clint up and down. 

“That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day,” Phil remarked. 

“Didn’t go well at the hospital?” Clint guessed. 

“I have to get up early to start vetting a medical staff. We’re moving him back to the tower with round the clock care.”

“Wow. That bad?”

“He has pneumonia and he’s depressed.” 

Clint rubbed his husband’s shoulder lightly. “You should get to bed, get some rest. Sounds like you have a big day tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Phil’s response was non-committal.

“Come on,” Clint rocked Phil’s shoulder forward. “Up, brush teeth, get your jammies on, I’ll tuck you in.” 

“You’ll tuck me in?” Phil shook his head. “I can think of better ways for you to help me fall asleep.” He gave Clint’s towel a sharp tug.

“Ah, eek, I’m naked,” Clint mock exclaimed. Phil stood up quickly and kissed him. He held Clint to him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and the hip to keep him in place. When he finally came up for air, he buried his face in Clint’s neck. 

“You’re my rock.”

“Come to bed.”

***

“Well, look at you,” Tony crooned. “Saving lives while the rest of us are having dessert.”

Bruce shook his head, rolling his eyes. “It isn’t that big of a deal.”

“You’re too modest,” Pepper replied. “You did a good thing tonight.”

“And we’re going to make a big deal of it because, frankly, your self-esteem could use the boost,” Tony added. 

“I’m not really comfortable being the center of attention,” Bruce mumbled as Pepper began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Get comfortable,” she advised.

“Because you’re about to be the center of a lot of things,” Tony finished. 

Bruce’s ears went pink as the two of them undressed him slowly.

***

“If he forgave you, then why are you still sulking like a scolded dog?” Bucky asked. He was only half teasing.

“He got pneumonia in that stupid hospital and I put him there.”

“Steve, you didn’t drop the building on him,” Bucky stated. 

“I should’ve been the one inside it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Nobody wants that. Didn’t what’s-her-face say nobody wanted that?”

“Her name is Natasha, Bucky, you’ve got to learn people’s names.”

“Yeah, she flat out said nobody wanted you to get hurt instead. Other than I thought for a minute she was going to throw something at you. Does she hate you? She seems like she hates you.”

“I always say the wrong things,” Steve replied.

“You might want to work on that.”

“You might want to work on learning people’s names,” Steve reiterated.

“I have a shit memory,” Bucky declared. 

“I don’t think you can blame the Germans for that,” Steve replied. “Remember Mary? You kept calling her Margaret.”

Bucky frowned. “No, I don’t remember that.”

***


	20. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. I moved my computer and it's harder to write porn in the living room, where everyone can walk through at any moment.

“Are you getting better care here?” Natasha asked.

“Well, it helps to be the only patient,” Nick replied. “And the food’s better.”

“Thank you,” Natasha smiled. 

“Thank you. You don’t have to make me dinner.”

“Haven’t you figured out yet that I like doing things for you?” 

Nick frowned. “Things won’t be like they were before.”

“So we’ll adapt,” Natasha replied matter-of-factly. 

“I can’t ask that of you,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I can’t even put my own shoes on. I can’t reach the damned kitchen faucet.”

“You’ll figure out the shoes …”

“I can’t get it up,” Nick interjected. 

“There are other things we can do, if you’re interested. So many other things…” Natasha sounded almost wistful. 

“I think you should find someone else to do them with.”

“Not interested,” Natasha replied. “Have you talked to the surgeon yet?”

Nick sighed. “Yes.”

“Did he say you weren’t a good candidate for surgery? Or he doesn’t think it will help? Where is this coming from?”

“Two weeks,” Nick answered. “The surgery’s in two weeks.

“Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

“Celebrate if it works,” he replied.

“Or we could celebrate now,” Natasha was persistent. 

“There’s nothing to celebrate.”

“We’re alive.” She gave him a deep, lingering, slow burning kiss. 

“There is that.”

***

_“Yasha?” Natalya whispered hoarsely. “Do you remember me?”_

_His brow furrowed as he stared at her. He racked his brain for a thin girl with filthy red hair and tear tracks through the dirt on her cheeks. He struggled to recollect a girl with teeth marks scabbed over on her lower lip and dark circles under her blue-grey-green eyes. He scrabbled for a memory, any memory, of the name she had spoken. There was a flash of something._

_He studied her face again. He picked out the keen intelligence behind her eyes. His gaze swept down to the set of her shoulders, the slope of her breasts, the bruises on her throat in the size and shape of a man’s fingers._

_“Nat…Natalya?” Yasha sputtered hesitantly. Her face relaxed. “You…used to have one tooth that was crooked.” His finger brushed against her mouth and she recoiled from his touch. “I liked it. It made your smile unique.” Walls crashed down in his mind and more memories flooded in. He had to turn away from her. He looked around as though seeing the room for the first time. There wasn’t much: a shelf of books, a chair, a desk, and a bed with Natalya’s right wrist cuffed to the frame._

_“What happened?” He asked._

_“They took you away,” Natalya answered with a tremor in her voice._

_“Who did this to you?” Anger rose inside him._

_“I didn’t recognize him,” Natalya was only half lying._

_Yasha reached out and tugged gently on the handcuffs. Natalya's wrist was bloodied beneath the metal and she winced at the pressure. “Give me a minute, let me see what I can figure out here.” He stood up, surveying the room, and absentmindedly pressed his palms against the outside of his pants pockets. There was a small, hard lump in the right hand pocket. Yasha walked over to his desk, frowning, searching for a lock pick or anything he could use to pick the lock, and slipped his hand into his pocket._

_Yasha froze. He closed his eyes and slowly pulled the object out of his pocket. Drawing a shuddering breath, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hand. It was a key. Not large enough for a door or even the desk, it was unquestionably a handcuff key. He looked over his shoulder at Natalya._

_He didn’t speak or look her in the eye as he unlocked the cuffs. He pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her, scooping her up in his arms._

_“Yasha?” Natalya looked up at him questioningly. She let her head drop against his chest as he carried her to the infirmary._

***

Bucky whimpered in his sleep and stretched out his arm, grasping. His hand found Steve’s shoulder and Steve groaned and wriggled towards him. Bucky threw his arm over Steve, pressing his palm to the blonde’s chest. He let out a shuddering sigh. His warm breath in Steve’s ear roused the captain. Steve rolled over and looked at Bucky. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “Buck, it’s just a bad dream.”

Bucky’s brow creased. 

“Bucky,” Steve repeated. “It’s okay.”

Bucky’s hand clamped over Steve’s throat, his dark eyes opened suddenly. He lurched up, bringing his weight over his hand, pressing down on Steve’s throat. Breathing was becoming an issue. Steve tried to remain calm and gently pry Bucky’s fingers loose. Bucky drew back his steel fist; Steve popped his friend’s elbow and rolled out of the way as the punch landed in the pillow. 

Bucky collapsed, his arm crumpling beneath him. He whimpered twice more and fell quiet. Steve waited, crouched on the floor next to the bed. He listened to Bucky’s steady, even breaths. A glance at the clock told him it was four am, but Steve knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep. 

***

Undress." There was no room in his tone for argument nor patience for hesitation. The timbre of his voice cut through her defenses and sank deep into her core. 

Natasha leisurely stripped off her shirt. He watched the graceful motions of her limbs as she revealed herself to him bit by bit. Nick reveled in the smoothness of her skin, the gleam of scar tissue in familiar places: her belly, her arm, and a new ribbon, short and narrow, still pink, at the nape of her neck. He fixated on the way the light hit that scar as she turned her back to him, her elegant hands unfastening her bra. She glanced over her shoulder at him as the satin straps slid down her arms. 

She kept her back to him as she shimmied out of her jeans. Nick bit his lower lip and stared at her ass. “Very nice,” he murmured. 

“If I’d known we were going to do this tonight, I’d’ve worn nicer underwear,” Natasha admitted. They were plain cotton briefs in an odd peach-beige hue that didn’t flatter her skin tone at all. 

“Take them off,” Nick replied. It was more than a suggestion. 

She turned back to face him, running her hands lightly over her breasts and down her ribs, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. She played with the elastic, tugging at it then smoothing it back into place.

“Now.” Nick could see the skin of her breasts tighten as her nipples hardened. Natasha slid her panties down and stepped out of them, slowly straightening up. “That’s better,” Nick said appreciatively. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the arm chair. “Get comfortable.”

Natasha perched delicately on the edge of the seat, knees together and canted to one side, leaning forward slightly, with her eyes locked on Nick’s face, hanging on his words.

“Feeling a little rebellious?” he asked. 

Natasha smirked. “I sat. I’m comfortable.” 

“Fine. Let’s do this the hard way. On the floor. Hands and knees.”

Natasha slid off the chair and knelt on the floor, slowly putting her hands on the carpet in front of her. There was a little uncertainty in her movements.

“Crawl to the bedroom,” Nick instructed.

Slowly, Natasha made her way across the living room floor to the bedroom. She stopped at the door. Nick watched her pose, using her upper arms to push her breasts forward, arching her back slightly. 

“Do you remember who’s in charge here?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, you can get up. Go lay on the bed.”

Natasha reached up without a word and opened the door. She crawled the rest of the way to the bed and climbed up, stretching out on her back with her legs spread.

“Time out,” Nick said, rolling into the bedroom. “Too much?”

Natasha lifted her head to make eye contact. “No. I’m good.” 

He knew she preferred pain to humiliation for punishment, knew that a sharp word could cut her more deeply than physical blow, but he was working around his limitations. “Keep going?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “Please,” she added, and then, “Sir.”

“Come give me a kiss first, let me get my head back in this.” 

Natasha bounded up, coiled into his lap and braced the back of his neck with one hand as she kissed him. Her enthusiasm settled his nerves. The brief pause, the moment of shared affection, put them both back on their game. He lightly chucked her under the chin then dropped his hand to pinch her nipple. 

“Go lay down,” he directed. “Get some pillows under your head so I can see your face.”

Natasha neatly rearranged the pillows and blankets and sprawled over them, propping herself up at an angle. She draped her arms decorously above her head and spread her legs. 

“Touch your breasts. Run your hands over them. Cup them. Squeeze them.”

Natasha obeyed, letting out a little moan as she pinched her nipples. It was mostly for show, but that was part of the fun. As much as she enjoyed having her breasts fondled, it was always more fun when she couldn’t anticipate the exact details, which was to say, when someone else did it. She relaxed, relishing in his attention. 

“Move your left hand down between your legs,” Nick said. “Lightly stroke one finger along the lips of your pussy.”

Natasha shivered and slowly followed his instructions. It was a deliberate tease, making her use her left hand. She was ambidextrous at some things, but this she had a strong preference for her right when it came to self-love. He built up slowly, allowing her more and more stimulation. He had a good sense of how she liked to be touched. He finally let her get her right hand involved.

“Do you want to cum?”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha whimpered. Her legs were visibly shaking. 

“Is that how you answer me?” Nick asked.

“No, sir.” She hesitated in her movements.

“Oh, don’t stop.”

Her fingers immediately went back to work. 

“Let’s try this again,” Nick said. “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes, please, sir.” The words stumbled out all at once. 

“Say my name when you do.” His gaze raked over her. “I want to hear it. I want to see you get yourself off.”

There was a frenetic pace to her fingering, her hips bucking against her hand. “Nick,” she panted. “Oh, Nick.” Like a broken rubber band, all the tension in her body went slack at once. He reached out and she twitched at his touch. 

“That was so good. That was perfect, Natasha.” He took her hand and sucked her fingers into his mouth. 

“Mmm.” A tremor passed through her. 

Nick kissed her hand and tucked it back in next to her. “Get some sleep; we need to be at the hospital at seven.” 

“What time’s it now?” she slurred without opening her eyes. 

Nick glanced at the clock. “You don’t want to know.”

She cracked her eyes open a slit. 

“Round about two,” Nick said. 

She closed her eyes and groaned and rolled onto her side. “Three hours?”

“I’m not allowed breakfast, I’m planning on four.”

“Four,” Natasha agreed. 

“You should have breakfast.” Nick rolled his wheelchair over to the other side of the bed and began to laborious process of moving from one to the other. 

“I’ll eat after they take you back,” Natasha promised.


	21. Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets desperate and the team receives a threat.

“Are you busy?” Steve asked.

“Not yet,” Natasha said, closing her book. 

“Yet?”

“In about fifteen minutes, Nick will be done with physical therapy. We’re going furniture shopping and – he doesn’t know this yet, but – he’s treating me to lunch.” 

“Furniture shopping?” Steve inquired.

“Both dressers won’t fit in one bedroom but one dresser isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“You’re moving in together,” Steve sounded surprised.

“That’s not what you came here to talk about.”

Steve hesitated. “What was the Winter Soldier like when you worked with him?”

Natasha pursed her lips and considered her response carefully. “He wasn’t like anyone else at the Red Room. He didn’t belong. They had conviction. They had control. He just haunted the grounds, lost and confused. I got to know him…pretty well,” she hedged. “He was unstable; they tampered with his memories, experimented with mind control, brainwashing. It was hit or miss, I guess, but they kept trying.”

“Unstable,” Steve echoed. “Confused.” He nodded slightly to himself. “Was he, did he sometimes get disoriented? Like he’d forget who he was or who you were? Did he ever break down? Like Jekyll and Hyde, just turn into someone…else?”

Natasha studied Steve for a moment and her voice was gentle when she spoke. “Steve, has he hurt you?”

His heart dropped into his stomach, denial rising in his throat. He hated how transparent he was. He wanted to dismiss her concerns, to wave her off. He pictured himself, huddled on the bathroom floor, blood dripping on the expensive heated tile, faucets running to mask the sound of his sobs. Before he could speak, it dawned on him that there was one very likely reason that Natasha would’ve known to ask that particular question. 

“I can deal with that,” he said. “I just try to get away without hurting him, lock myself in the bathroom or the spare bedroom until the serum heals everything. It only takes a few hours; by the time I come out, he doesn’t even remember what he’s done. He’s just Bucky again.” Steve sniffled. “I just don’t know how to help him, or if it’s going to get better.”

Natasha sighed. “When he got very unstable, the Red Room would just wipe his memory, or put him into cryofreeze for a while. He’d come back a blank slate. The more time we spent together, the faster he was to remember me after. Those were the good times. After a while, usually a few months, he’d lose stability again. That was so much worse than the blank slate, but then it’d be back to the ice again.”

“How well did you two know each other?”

“Sometimes I knew him better than he knew himself.”

“Are you completely incapable of giving me a straight answer?” Steve snapped. 

“I’m giving you straight answers to relevant questions,” Natasha said. “You asked how to help, I’m telling you what they did.”

“I’m not putting him into cryofreeze or wiping his mind.”

“You won’t even consider it?” Natasha asked. “Tony could build a chamber, I’m sure of it.”

“No. He’s violent, but I can handle it.”

“You don’t know how dangerous he can get,” she countered.

“And you do?” Steve said.

Natasha stood up. “Take away anything that can be used as a weapon or a restraint. Lock him in your apartment if you can’t supervise him.”

“I won’t treat him like a prisoner,” Steve interrupted.

“You aren’t the only person in this tower.”

“You’re afraid of him.”

“I don’t have the benefit of healing up in a matter of hours; I prefer not to get hurt.” She glanced at the clock. “But if he comes after me, he’ll get off light compared to what I’ll do if he hurts Clint or Phil or Nick. If he lays one shiny metal finger on Pepper, the Hulk will level this whole block.”

Steve frowned.

“What kind of consequences are you prepared to accept?”

“I, I’ll think about the chamber,” Steve promised haltingly. 

“Think hard. I’m going to take a walk. I need a little fresh air.”

“It’s raining,” Steve warned. 

“I’ll take an umbrella.”

***

As the days grew longer and the weather warmer, Bucky seemed more and more agitated. He lashed out at Steve, sometimes with words, sometimes with his fists. Steve was slicing zucchinis for dinner when Bucky’s pacing brought him through the kitchen. Bucky froze and stared at him for a moment. Steve looked up from the cutting board.

“Buck? Is everything-“

Bucky lunged forward and suddenly Steve was struggling to keep hold of the knife as his best friend tried to wrest it from his grasp. Bucky shouted at him: harsh, guttural words in a language Steve didn’t understand. He twisted Steve’s wrist painfully, and Steve couldn’t keep his fingers closed around the handle. The knife slipped from his hand to Bucky’s. Bucky smiled and the expression turned Steve’s stomach. Steve threw a punch, as hard as he could, and Bucky staggered. The knife hit the floor. Steve swiftly kicked it with the side of his foot and it skidded under the refrigerator. 

Bucky regained his balance and looked at Steve with dark, confused eyes. “Steve?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Bucky.”

“Did you just hit me?”

***

Steve opened the door to the lab and took half a step inside before he processed what he was seeing. Bruce was leaning against a workbench, holding his glasses in one hand. Tony was leaning into him, kissing him aggressively and possibly unbuckling Bruce’s belt. Steve stepped back and closed the door. He took a deep breath and knocked loudly. 

“-king hell,” Tony muttered. “Who is it?”

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis answered. 

Tony ran his hands over his hair. Bruce quickly cleaned his glasses with the tail of his shirt. “I didn’t know Steve even knew where the lab was, it must be important,” Bruce reasoned.

“So’s this,” Tony said.

“It can wait.”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” Tony called out. 

Steve opened the door again. “Sorry to bother you. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“It’s fine,” Bruce said quickly. “What can we help you with?”

“Well, I, um, I had Natasha and Phil pull together all the data they could. I wanted to ask you about building a cryofreeze chamber and possibly a version of the device that was used to alter Bucky’s memories.”

“The info’s on my network?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded. 

“Jarvis, bring it up.”

A holographic array of files appeared in front of Tony. Tony opened a few of them, scanning the contents. “This doesn’t look like much.”

“Either you’re a genius who can fill in the gaps or you aren’t and can’t.”

“A challenge,” Tony said. He didn’t look at Steve as he studied the information in front of him. 

“Hang on.” Bruce stepped forward and reached into the hologram, pulling a file forward. “This looks like schematics.”

“I think Natasha downloaded them when we found him,” Steve said. “It took a few minutes for him to defrost, she was doing something with the chamber during that time.”

“That’s the cryofreeze chamber,” Tony said.

“I don’t think that’s all of the data. More of a repair manual or something. It’s not in English.”

“Jarvis, get this translated.”

The words went out of focus. When they came back into focus, they were in English.

“Wow.” Steve blinked. “Just like that.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s more of a manual, but we can use this. Bruce, what do you think about the freezing medium?”

“Gas,” Bruce guessed. “Nitrogen, maybe.”

“We can work on this,” Tony said, finally looking at Steve. “It’ll take a few months probably, and it’ll cost you.”

“Cost me what?”

“I want to study the arm.”

“That’s not really my decision,” Steve answered.

“Do you plan to use this?” Tony gestured to the files. “If I build this, are you going to use it? And the memory…thing?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I won’t hurt him. I won’t damage the arm. He wouldn’t even have to know about it.”

“That’s unethical.” Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony. 

“Those are my terms.”

“I’ll work on it,” Bruce interjected. “No terms and conditions. No strings. You want to help.”

Steve nodded. “I’m worried for him.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Traitor,” Tony muttered, giving Bruce side-eye. He turned his attention back to Steve. “Ask him about the arm, okay? Just ask if I can have a look.”

***

“Can you drop that for a minute and come into the rec room?” Tony asked.

Phil stared at him for a moment. “No. It’s risotto. You have to keep stirring or it won’t come out smooth.”

Tony stared back. “You’re shitting me.”

“It’s my turn to cook team dinner.”

“How much longer?”

“Eighteen minutes.” 

Tony slowly pulled his fingertips down his cheeks. “Jarvis, have Bruce load Dum-E into the elevator. I need him in the common kitchen.” He looked at Phil. “Show the robot how to stir and get your butt into the rec room.”

Tony busied himself making a drink while he waited for everyone to assemble. When he turned around, they were there, situating themselves on the couches and chairs. 

“So,” Tony began. “As a team, we get, like, three death threats a day. No big deal, most of them are puff stuff. We got one today that is something of a mystery. I mean, I’m not positive that it’s even really a death threat, it’s so vague, but I also don’t know what else it could be. I figured I’d share with the group and see if anybody has any thoughts. Jarvis, put it up.”

It was a photograph of a burning, badly damaged car. “Looks like the aftermath of a car bomb,” Clint observed.

“The weird thing is it’s not a recent picture.”

“It was taken August 10th, 1997,” Nick said. Everyone turned their attention to him. He was obviously bothered by the image, but his expression was difficult to read. “The car belonged to Pamela Hawley.”

“The car belonged to her brother, Jonathan,” Natasha corrected quietly. “She just happened to be driving it that day. How do you know about it?”

“I was there.” Nick looked from Natasha to the photo and back to Natasha. “Pam was my fiancé. You?”

“I was there,” Natasha’s voice came out a dry whisper. “I set the explosives, detonator wired to the ignition.”

Nick waited a moment for the rush of anger that he always assumed he would feel if he could confront Pam’s killer. Seconds ticked by and everyone was staring. “Don’t come after me.” His voice was low. He stood up and walked out of the room quickly. 

Phil stood up.

“Don’t go after him,” Natasha said quietly.

Phil sat down. 

“Are you okay?” Clint moved over to sit next to Natasha. 

“Sooner or later, I’m going to have to pay for all the things I’ve done. Can’t run from the past forever.” She looked up at the photograph. “The devil demands his due.”

***


	22. twenty two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for violence, torture, killing, sexual assault, amputation. No kidding, things are dark.

_“Are you getting up to drive me to work, love?”_

_Nick growled a response into his pillow._

_“Was that a yes or a no?” Pam asked._

_"No."_  

_“You don’t want the car then? I thought you had errands to run.”_

_“I’ll walk,” Nick replied. “Or I’ll just stay here all day.”_

_“If you stay here all day, I expect the place to be spotless when I get home,” Pam said. “And dinner on the table.”_

_“Be careful what you wish for.” Nick rolled out of bed. “I will cook.”_

_“Try not to burn the place down.”_

_He kissed her neck, just under her ear. “No promises.”_

_“I like this flat,” Pam said firmly._

_“You’re going to be late. Drive safe.”_

_“Make dinner healthy, I want to lose a little weight before the wedding.” Pam smoothed her hands over her hips._

_“You’re perfect just the way you are.” Nick kissed her again and pinched her butt._

_“See you tonight.”_

***

Pepper sorted the mail into stacks for each resident of the tower. She tossed a thick, padded envelope on top of Nick’s growing pile. She glanced back at it. “Jarvis, did security scan this?”

“Yes, Miss Potts. All clear.”

“Dial Nick for me.”

“Hello, Pepper,” Nick answered the phone.

“You’ve got mail piling up at my tower. Is there a forwarding address I should use?” she asked. 

“Bills and junk,” Nick guessed. “Just toss it.”

“There’s a package. Jarvis says it’s not a bomb.”

There was a brief silence on the line. 

“Nick? Still there?”

“What’s the return address?” he asked.

Pepper picked up the package and read it off to him.

“Just hold on to it for a while.”

***

_“That isn’t him,” Vosem hissed under his breath._

_“I can see that,” Natalya whispered back. She watched the woman get into the car. “Maybe I-“ She took a step towards the vehicle and felt Vosem’s hand firmly grasp her arm. There was nothing she could do and anything she tried would only draw unwanted attention. The woman turned the key in the ignition. It was the last thing she did._

_Natalya felt the rush of air and heat from the explosion. She winced at the sound. Wincing was good, it helped her blend in with the other bystanders. She could smell flesh and hair and motor oil burning as the car caught fire._

_“We’ve failed,” Vosem said. “We can’t go back now.”_

_“It wasn’t our fault,” Natalya objected. “That was the car they told us. The intel-“_

_Vosem cut her off with a harsh bark of laughter. “Won’t matter.” He held up his left hand, missing the pinky and ring finger. “Do you think I’ve always been called Vosem?”_

_“It’ll be worse if we run.”_

_“Suit yourself. I don’t much care for the ring of Sem.”_

***

“Have you heard anything?” Clint asked as he stepped up to the punching bag next to Natasha. 

“Not a word. He might not be coming back.”

“It’s only been-“

“A month.” Natasha hit the bag hard. “It’s been a month. He hasn’t called or texted.”

“He’ll be back,” Clint asserted. “Have you called him? Or texted?” 

“I’m giving him space.”

***

_They stripped Natalya naked and locked her in a room without windows, hands cuffed in front. The room was damp, the walls and floors exposed concrete with a thin slime of mold. It was hard to track passage of time, but eventually someone came and slid a tray of food with a cup of water through a slot at the bottom of the door. If she was being fed, it wasn’t the worse punishment she’d endured. Natalya ate and drank slowly, trying to make everything last as long as possible._

_She was fed four times before the door opened. The men didn’t give her a chance to move or speak. One of them grabbed the chain between her wrists and looped it over a hook jutting out from the wall. Her back was exposed to the room, her chest and belly pressed against the clammy wall._

_She heard the whoosh of air and the sharp sound of the cane striking her flesh before she registered the pain. Natalya had no idea how many times they hit or how long it lasted. When one man tired, he passed the cane to the next. They spread the blows from her wrists to her ankles, only avoiding her head. She blacked out and woke to them still beating her._

_When at last they uncuffed her, she fell to the floor. The men dragged her into the middle of the room._

_“Get up on your hands and knees,” a sharp voice ordered. Natalya forced herself to obey. She swayed in position, trembling. A bench was placed along her left side and a small stool on her right. She glanced up as three more men entered. Two of them held Vosem between them. They stepped up onto the bench in unison and Natalya cast her gaze back to the floor. In her peripheral vision, she saw someone step up onto the stool._

_“Step forward.”_

_Natalya twitched but they weren’t addressing her. She felt the soles of Vosem’s boots on her back. The man on her right stepped down and picked up the stool. As the two guards on the bench released Vosem, she felt his full weight upon her. They picked up the bench. Everyone filed out._

_Natalya craned her neck to look up at Vosem. He had a noose around his neck. She breathed in slowly through her nose, out slowly through her mouth._

_“What did they call you before?” she asked._

_“Luka.”_

_Natalya’s arms shook. She focused her gaze on a spot on the floor, just in front of her. Slowly she breathed in. Slowly she breathed out. Each breath was agony, she was sure her ribs were cracked in several places. The tread of his boots dug into the fresh bruises._

_She had no sense of the passage of time, except as marked by her breaths. She could bear no more. Natalya collapsed. Luka kicked, flailing at the noose with bandaged stubs where his hands should have been. Natalya struggled to get back up and Luka’s swinging foot caught her in the ribs. She grabbed his ankles and planted them on her shoulders, kneeling beneath him. He continued to thrash and kicked her in the head. Natalya crumpled to the floor again._

_She couldn’t get up. Her body had stopped listening to her commands. She felt something wet hit her hip and rolled to the side. Luka’s face was purple. The front of his slacks was wet. His foot twitched and a drop of urine fell from the hem of his pants onto the floor. Natalya passed out._

*** 

"I want to meet for drinks tonight. Can you bring me my mail?" 

Coulson glanced at his caller id. It was a blocked number, as expected. "And come alone, right?" 

"I need some advice. I'm not sure you're unbiased, but I trust you," Nick said. "Ten thirty, Jack's." 

"I think Pepper's been collecting the mail. I'll see if she has anything." 

*** 

_“Up on your knees.” Ivan’s voice cut through the pain and the fog. Natalya shuddered. He did not and would not repeat himself. She’d laid on the floor long enough for all of her muscles to stiffen. She looked up at him._

_“Yes, sir.” Natalya writhed on the floor, trying to get her legs under her. Ivan was flanked by Lev and Yasha. They could all sense Ivan’s patience dwindling. Without a word, Yasha stepped forward, grabbed Natalya’s arms and pulled her up into position. She slumped when he released her and he quickly took hold of her again. Ivan moved in closer. He grasped Natalya’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and looked into her eyes._

_“The price of failure is high,” Ivan intoned. He turned her face towards Luka’s body. “But the price of treachery is higher.”_

_Natalya shivered._

_“You understand, don’t you?” Ivan asked._

_“Yes, sir.”_

_He let go of her chin. “Good.” He unzipped his pants. “Suck me off and you can go get cleaned up and dressed.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

***

_Ivan left without a word as soon as he finished._

_Lev was practically panting. He pounced on Natalya the moment Ivan was gone and kissed her roughly. He licked her lips, forced his tongue deep into her mouth. He released a heavy sigh. "Soldat, you want a blow job when we're done with the body?"_

_"I'm not really into that," Yasha said._

_"Who isn't into blow jobs?" Lev asked rhetorically. "I bet if Red here had a dick she'd let me suck it." He gestured to Natalya. "You can close your eyes and pretend I'm a chick."_

_"And you'll close your eyes and pretend I'm Ivan," Yasha guessed._

_"I won't tell nobody."_

_"I'll think about it. Let's get this done." Yasha pointed to Luka's body._

_Lev brought the stool over and set it near the corpse's dangling feet. "You cut, I'll catch."_

_"Could- could you guys help me get to my room?" Natalya asked._

_Lev and Yasha exchanged glances. "Ivan didn't say we couldn't," Yasha shrugged._

_"We got to take Vosem to the incinerator first," Lev said. Natalya nodded._

_Yasha frowned at her. "Natalya?" He enunciated slowly._

_"Do you remember me?"_

_He quickly turned his attention to Lev. "Help me get her safely to her quarters and I'll let you..." He glanced pointedly down at his groin._

_"Deal," Lev quickly agreed. "Now let’s get this unlucky bastard down."_

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vosem is Russian for eight. Sem is Russian for seven.


	23. Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Phil discuss an important proposal, Natasha must run from her past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, sexual assault and fridge horror.

Natasha was tired. Every time she was about to fall asleep, she was wakened by the smell of smoke. She needed perspective, distance. She went for a drive after dinner.

Phil had been uncharacteristically quiet during dinner. Natasha assumed that, like herself, he hadn’t forgotten how this all began. The photograph was a threat or a warning. They still didn’t know from whom. Given the subject matter, Nick was a likely target. Natasha was thus distracted when the truck hit the rear driver’s side of her car.

***

Phil quietly set a stack of mail in front of Nick. He stared at it for a moment. “I told Pepper she could trash some of this.” Shaking his head, he began flipping through the pile. “Junk, junk, junk, hospital bill.” He set that one aside. “Junk. Anesthesiologist’s bill. Explanation of benefits – tip, there are none. Junk, physical therapy bill.” He got to the padded envelope Phil had placed at the bottom. 

“I took the liberty of googling the return address,” Phil said. “Also shaking, palpating and having Jarvis x-ray the package.” He shrugged off Nick’s look. “I was curious. Is that what I think it is?”

***

Natasha tried to maintain control but the car was being forced off the road. Everything happened at once. The car came to halt in a ditch, tilted to one side. Natasha, dazed, was bleeding from the left side of her head and someone yanked open the door. She felt a hand on her arm and the jab of a needle. An arm reached over her to unbuckle the seat belt.

“I can’t get it.” His voice sounded muffled as though Natasha’s head was underwater. That seemed accurate, the air felt thick as she tried to breath. 

“Just cut it.”

Her legs were numb when they dragged her out of the car. She didn’t recognize any of the men who cuffed her hands behind her back.

***

“Tell me I’m not being disrespectful to Pam’s memory,” Nick requested. He ran his fingers over the seal of the padded envelope. “Tell me that forgiving Natasha isn’t an act of betrayal against Pam.”

“How about if I tell you that life is for the living.” Phil looked at him pointedly. “It’s been nearly two decades. It’s beyond acceptable for you to move on.”

“With the woman who killed her?”

“With the woman who makes you happy. You’re happier than I’ve seen you in nearly two decades.”

Nick began picking at the flap, slowly peeling the package open. 

“What you should keep in mind is that Pam never would’ve liked the idea of you avenging her death.”

“Not the least of which is because that would mean that she’d died,” Nick interjected. 

“She was a deeply compassionate woman,” Phil said. “Forgiveness is maybe the best way to honor her memory.”

The adhesive yielded to Nick’s efforts. He reached into the envelope, tipping the open end down.

***

They dumped Natasha into the trunk of a car. It wasn’t the truck that had first hit. There were at least two vehicles and seven, eight, or maybe it was only six men. She couldn’t seem to keep track. One man loomed over the open trunk. He put on a pair of nitrile gloves with an audible snap and opened a small, brown, plastic bottle. A single pinkish white pill, about the size of Natasha’s fingertip, fell into his waiting palm. Natasha tried to struggle but her movements were sluggish and ineffectual. 

He put the ankle of her top leg onto his shoulder and reached up through the leg of her shorts to pull aside her underwear. He positioned the pill at the entrance of her sex and pushed it inside with two gloved fingers. He shrugged off her leg and let it fall back into the trunk. He peeled off the gloves and dropped them in top of her as well before the trunk slammed shut.

***

Nick set the envelope aside, focusing his attention on a small black box with a logo embossed on the lid. He passed it from hand to hand, touching the edges, feeling the embossing and a small round sticker on the bottom. Finally, he opened it. 

Phil waited, watching Nick’s expression more than the box in his hands. Nick smiled when he saw the contents. He set the box on the table, turned the open side towards Phil and slid it forward. 

“You think Natasha will like it?”

As he’d suspected, it was a ring. “May I?” Nick gave him a nod and Phil plucked the ring from its box to examine it. Highly polished metal inlaid with something darker, almost matte grey but metallic and a square cut diamond in a tension setting. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Phil assessed. “That alone might make it perfect for her.”

“It’s titanium,” Nick explained. “The inlay is meteorite, and the stone was my grandmother’s.”

Phil nodded his approval and put the ring away, pushing the box back to Nick. “Are you going to give it to her?”

***

The drug Natasha recognized. They’d used it in the Red Room. It would take time to take effect. It was getting slightly easier to breath. Natasha held out hope that whatever they’d injected would wear off before the pill kicked in. She kept trying to move and slowly her body grew more responsive. 

***

“I haven’t decided yet,” Nick admitted. “I thought I was sure about this. I thought I had accepted every part of Natasha’s past. Most of all, I thought I was over Pam’s death. Now I’m not sure of any of it.”

“My advice?” Phil offered.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“Perspective. In your perspective, August 10th, 1997 changed your life. In a matter of seconds, you lost the person you loved most. That’s like my worst nightmare right there. Her perspective, let’s see, her birthday’s in December, so summer of ’97 she would have been 13. Let that sink in a minute. Barely more than a child and the Red Room has her blowing up cars. She was supposed to kill Commander John Hawley, the mission was a failure. She mentioned to me that it only really stands out in her mind because of that. She wouldn’t tell me what the consequences were for failure.”

***

The men were idiots. The cuffs they’d used were a standard size, designed for detaining male prisoners. Even at their tightest setting, Natasha was able to slip her hand out with minimal effort. She waited until she felt the car slow down and pulled the emergency trunk release. 

Natasha sprang out and hit the ground running literally. She didn’t even look at the car. Though she didn’t immediately recognize her surroundings, she was in the city. It was late and traffic was light but any traffic was better than none. She darted down a narrow side street. She nearly fell down the stairs into the subway station. There wasn’t a train waiting. Natasha didn’t hesitate; she leapt onto the tracks and kept running, heading into the tunnel on foot. These men wanted her alive. There were worse things than being hit by a train. 

***

“How’s Natasha been?” Nick asked.

“She won’t admit she misses you. She has a lot of regrets about her past, and the things she did before she came to work for SHIELD. This is reinforcing that guilt.” Phil sipped his soda. “I can’t tell you what to do. Think about it as long as you need to, I’m going home to my husband.”

“So now I owe her the apology?”

“I’ve never once regretted telling Clint that I’m sorry, even if I didn’t entirely feel it at the time,” Phil answered. 

***

She got her bearings as she reached the next station on the line. Natasha pulled herself up onto the platform and glanced at a clock on the wall. The train pulled up a moment later. 

Natasha boarded, still looking over her shoulder. The ride was the worst part. It was hard to keep her focus up once the immediate danger had passed. She felt dizzy and her head hurt and the second drug was beginning to take effect. She made it to the tower and stumbled into the elevator.

“Where’s Banner?”

“In the lab,” Jarvis responded. 

“Take me there.” The elevator began to move and Natasha leaned against the wall. She pulled her shorts and underwear down to her ankles. Grimacing, she slid her finger into her vagina. If it hadn’t dissolved completely, maybe she could fish out the pill before she got a full dose. She squatted in the corner of the elevator, pressing down with her internal muscles. 

The elevator had stopped but the doors remained closed. Natasha almost laughed, imagining Tony adding that bit of programming to Jarvis’s repetoir. ‘If someone appears to be masturbating, do not open elevator doors.’ 

She clutched the pill in her hand, pulling her clothes back up. 

“Is everything all right, Miss Romanov?” 

“Open the pod bay doors, Hal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's engagement ring inspired by the meteorite series from Boone titanium.


	24. Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if I've played my cards right, everyone should hate this chapter. Mind the warnings: Language (so much language), sexually explicit content, erotic asphyxiation/breathplay, dubious consent, language, sex while drugged

“You busy, Dr. Banner?” Natasha leaned against the wall for support as she ambled in to the lab. Bruce and Tony were doing something to Bucky. 

“Jesus, Natasha.” Bruce put on his glasses. “Sit down before you fall down, what the hell happened?” 

“I need you to take a look at something for me.” Natasha held up the remains of the pill. “You’re not going to want to touch this, it absorbs through the skin.”

Frowning, Bruce grabbed an empty plate as he approached. “What is it?”

“That’s what I want to find out.”

“How’d you get it?” Bruce tried a slightly different approach.

“Some men tried to kidnap me, they drugged me with that, plus a shot of something.”

“You said it absorbs through the skin, how did…?” Bruce trailed off. 

“They inserted it vaginally,” Natasha answered with as much decorum as she could muster. It wasn’t much. 

That gave Bruce a moment’s pause and then a moment’s more. 

“Do you need anything else?” Natasha finally asked. “I’d like to get out of here.”

“Could I draw some blood?”

Natasha swallowed hard, her blood pounding in her ears. 

“I don’t need to; I just thought it might be helpful. Are you okay?”

Natasha staggered to a chair and sat down. “Take a blood sample. Just do it fast.”

“What kind of effects are you feeling?” Bruce asked.

Natasha crossed her legs and squirmed slightly. “I’d rather not get into right now.”

Bruce frowned again and began gathering the supplies to draw her blood. “Looks like you got a nasty bump on your head,” he observed. “Can I check on that?”

Natasha put her hand up and touched the side of her head lightly. Her fingers came away bloody. “Make it fast.”

“You in a hurry?”

“I just want to get upstairs and sleep it off. I just… I don’t really want to be around anybody right now.” She didn’t look at him as he made a quick tourniquet around her arm. She didn’t wince when the needle went in, but she had goosebumps. Bruce took her free hand and guided it to the needle site. 

“Put pressure on that for me.” He prepared a bandage and carefully laid three vials of blood aside, next to the plate with the pill. He bandaged the prick in her arm. Bruce stood up, gently prodding through her hair until he found the wound on her scalp. “Not too deep,” he remarked, mostly to himself. “How’d this happen?”

“Hit my head on the car window when I crashed.” Natasha still wouldn’t look at him. She bounced her leg. 

Bruce fished a pen light out of his pocket. “Can you follow my finger with your eyes, don’t move your head?” He asked. She managed, while he shone the light in and out of her gaze. He frowned and repeated the process. “What do you say I make up the cot here in the lab? I’d like to keep an eye on you for a little while.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Natasha stood up quickly. She stood a bit too quickly and put her hand on his arm for balance. Natasha gasped at the contact. “Thanks. Let me know what you figure out.” She hurried back to the elevator. Pushing the button for her floor, Natasha forced herself to breathe slowly. 

She was shaking so hard it took both hands to unlock the door. Once inside, Natasha dropped to her knees on the carpet. Her hand immediately went between her legs, rubbing through the layers of clothing. She closed her eyes, imagining it was Nick’s hand. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, his stubble rough against her cheek. She could smell the musk of her own arousal soaking through her panties. She was so horny it was actually painful, a giant knot sitting low in her gut. There was a knock at the door.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Natasha muttered under her breath. She pulled her hand away and managed to stand up. She attempted a look of composure as she opened the door.

“Natalya.”

She stared at Bucky. “Now you remember me?”

“I remember…everything,” he said quietly, stepping into the apartment. 

Natasha shook her head. “If you remembered everything, you wouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t be here.” 

He gently placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her. “I remember loving you.”

“Get out.” There was no conviction in her tone. Her legs were weak and wobbly. 

“I remember what you need.” Bucky reached out and closed the door behind him with one hand. He pulled her in close. “Bruce seemed to think you shouldn’t be alone.” He kissed her again, his hands travelling down to her hips, grasping her buttocks. He trailed kisses along her jaw, his teeth grazing her throat.

“This is all wrong,” Natasha whispered hoarsely. 

“It always was, wasn’t it?” he murmured. He tugged her shorts and underwear down, falling to his knees in front of her. He nuzzled the juncture of her thighs and she spread her legs, stepping out of her clothes, lacing her fingers through his hair to keep her balance. “You’re dripping wet.” He craned his neck to reach his tongue into her slit. 

Natasha let out a disappointed whine when he pulled away. 

"Lay down," Bucky panted, unfastening his trousers. Natasha clenched her eyes shut and shook her head slightly. Bucky stood to shuck his clothes. 

"I don't-" Natasha started. He grabbed a handful of her hair with his left hand, pulling roughly, and kissed her. She could taste herself as he probed her mouth with his tongue. He tucked his right hand between her thighs, thrusting two fingers up into her. She moaned against his lips. 

He pulled his hand free and her hips twitched forward, unwilling to sacrifice the stimulation. He put his hand on her shoulder as he broke the kiss. "Lay down," he said, pushing firmly on her shoulder. "I'll take care of you."

Natasha looked him up and down. Emptiness threatened to consume her, and didn't he have just the thing to fill it? She let herself go to the floor, laying on her back. He grabbed her hips and flipped her over, pulling up on her. 

"Face down, ass up," he barked. She felt him position himself between her legs. He slapped her butt. "God, you look good." 

He slammed into her, filling her aching void. Natasha choked back a cry. He yanked her while he jackhammered her pussy. Burying his cock in her as deeply as possible, he leaned over her and wrapped his fingers around her throat. "I wish you could see you right now," he whispered, slowing his thrusts to glacial pace and squeezing and releasing her throat in time to the movement of his hips. When he was all the way in, he granted her air, tightening his grip as he dragged his dick out to the tip, almost completely cutting off oxygen until he began to sink back into her. "Lipstick smudged," he continued. "Mascara running, hair tangled, cunt dripping, begging for my cock." He paused, the head barely resting inside her entrance, hand clamped around her windpipe. She began to squirm beneath him. "Gorgeous fucking slut."

He wriggled his free hand under her and rubbed her clit. Bucky pounded her with brutal speed but his grip on her throat didn't relent. Natasha struggled then her eyes began to flutter and roll back. He let go and she gasped, gulping air as she came, ejaculating clear fluid onto his hand. He wiped it across the back of the shirt she was still wearing and pulled out. 

Natasha was glassy eyed as he rolled her onto her back. She whimpered, and then moaned as he plunged into her again. He kept going hard and fast, pinning her wrists beneath his palms. Natasha bucked her hips to meet his thrusts. Natasha's eyes fell shut, and Bucky slapped her forcefully. "Look at me," he demanded. 

Natasha looked through him, unfocused and dazed. She climaxed again, nothing as earth shattering as the first, just a weak shudder. She was still quivering when Bucky came inside her. He collapsed, riding out the last sputtering waves of his orgasm. 

He rolled off her with a shaky sigh. "I'll remember Natalya."

***

The worst of Natasha's nightmares was that she had never escaped from the Red Room and her life since then was a dream from which she would wake. She was nauseated before she opened her eyes and everything ached. Her head was throbbing, her mouth was dry. Between her legs, she felt a familiar, sticky, soreness. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Yasha. She sat bolt upright and her stomach lurched. 

She looked around quickly. This was Avengers Tower. This was her apartment. It wasn't the Red Room. Natasha found her shorts and underwear on the floor nearby and pulled them on, wincing as the fabric pressed against her. 

She watched Yasha- Bucky now- as she crept into her bedroom. She quickly grabbed fresh clothes and her glock and snuck out of the apartment. She went up one flight of stairs and knocked on Clint and Phil's door. 

“Could I use your shower?”


	25. Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about twice as long as what I've been averaging. A lot of stuff happens. Bucky makes excuses for cheating on Steve. Nick skips town. Bruce discovers some answers. Steve and Bruce talk about polyamory. Steve and Tony talk about polyamory. Clint and Phil talk about...not polyamory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing fast and loose with science. I flat out made up one of the drugs. That's why it's called fiction. Trigger warning for mention of multiple miscarriages.

There was coffee and oatmeal waiting at the kitchen table when Natasha emerged from the bathroom. She sat down and picked up the coffee cup first. 

“What happened?” Clint asked.

“Some guys ran me off the road and tried to kidnap me and I slept with Bucky.”

“Bucky…Barnes?” Clint gaped. “Steve’s Bucky?”

“I do stupid things sometimes,” Natasha replied.

“He qualifies,” Clint said snarkily.

“Clint!” Phil scolded. “Kidnapped? Did you recognize them? How many? Can you describe the kidnappers? Their vehicle? Are you hurt?”

“I didn’t recognize them and I’m not sure how many and I didn’t get a good look at the cars or the men. Maybe one of them. I was kind of out of it.” She touched the side of her head lightly. 

“Do you need a doctor?” Phil asked.

“I let Banner look at it last night and I didn’t wake up in a coma. I think I’m okay.”

“But you don’t have any idea who they were?”

“And you slept with Bucky Barnes?” Clint added. 

“They didn’t say much. The one who spoke sounded like he was from Jersey.” Natasha ignored Clint.

Phil gave him a look. “Can we focus on the kidnapping, please? Do you remember where it happened?”

“Yes,” Natasha answered. “I remember everything prior to the head injury and the drugs just fine.”

Phil finished his coffee in one gulp. “I’m going to make a phone call and then we’re going to take a field trip. On the way, you can tell me what else you remember.”

***

It took Bucky a moment upon waking to remember where he was and why. He smiled and stretched. “Nat?”

He stood up and scratched his belly. “Nat?” He called for her as he wandered through the apartment. He found the bathroom, which was good. He didn’t find Natalya. Bucky peed and washed his hands and searched the rest of the apartment. Finally, he returned to the living room to get dressed. 

***

Nick’s phone rang while he was brushing his teeth. A glance at the screen told him it was Coulson. Rolling his eyes, he ignored it. A moment later he got a text alert “This is important.” He shook his head. 

***

Steve was in the kitchen when Bucky walked in. “Where were you all night?” Steve asked immediately, practically pouncing on his friend. “I was worried sick.”

“I started remembering things,” Bucky said haltingly. He went to the fridge and got out butter, eggs, and buttermilk, setting them out on the counter. From the pantry, he added regular and buckwheat flour, sugar, salt and baking soda. 

“What did you remember?” Steve handed him a large mixing bowl.

“It wasn’t about us. It was from my time in Russia.” Bucky measured butter into a small bowl and put it in the microwave to melt it. “Your friend, Nat-Natasha, I knew her.”

“She told me you guys worked together.” Steve put the large cast iron skillet on the stove. 

“We did more than work together. We had a relationship, Steve. I loved her. I might still love her. I don’t know how it ended.” He cracked two eggs into a bowl and returned the rest to the refrigerator. 

“What are you telling me?” Steve asked, turning his full attention to Bucky. 

“I spent last night with her. We, um, we didn’t talk,” Bucky admitted. “We had sex a couple times. She was gone when I woke up this morning. I need to figure out where we stand.”

“What about us?”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky looked at him anxiously. “Where are you going?”

“For a run,” Steve answered. “I didn’t run this morning because I didn’t know where you were and I wanted to be here if you came back. I’m going to run now.”

Bucky had a sinking feeling it was true in more ways than one.

***

Natasha’s car was still in the dirt alongside the road, partially in a ditch, driver’s side door open. The brown pickup was nearby, apparently undrivable after hitting Natasha’s car. 

“We’re going to end up towing both of these in for analysis,” Phil declared. He pulled a bag out of his trunk and tossed Clint a roll of yellow “do not cross” tape. “Clint, start taping off this whole area, watch your step.” He produced a stack of free standing numbered cards and a measuring stick. “You want to measure or photograph?” He asked Natasha. 

“I’ll measure.”

The three of them worked quietly for several hours, measuring footprints and tire treads, bagging up cigarette butts and the cap from a hypodermic, photographing everything. Around one o’clock, Phil sent Clint to bring back lunch. Once they were alone, he pulled Natasha into the shade.

“What happened with Barnes?”

“I’d rather talk about literally anything else,” Natasha stated. 

“There’s more to this than you’ve said.”

Natasha sighed. “It wasn’t just the sedative in the hypodermic. There was a drug they used in the Red Room. I don’t know the name or what it’s supposed to do but it has the side effect of making you unreasonably, embarrassingly, desperately horny. The kidnappers used it last night.”

“Are you all right?”

“It’s worn off now,” Natasha replied. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I really just want to forget it even happened.”

Phil let it drop but he kept a closer eye on her throughout the afternoon. Two tow trucks showed up around 4. “I’m going to ride in one of the trucks,” Phil said. “I want to get all the evidence we collected to the lab as soon as possible.”

“You’re taking it in to SHIELD?” Natasha frowned. 

“We have better facilities for handling and analyzing everything.”

Natasha didn’t answer but her displeasure was evident.

“I have a small team of people I trust,” Phil assured her.

“So do I,” Natasha retorted. “They’re called the Avengers.”

“Do you want to come along and meet them?”

Natasha shook her head. “I want to get back to the tower, see if Banner has anything interesting to tell me. Take a seventeen hour long nap.”

“I’ll drive,” Clint offered. “Will you be home for dinner, hon?”

Phil glanced at his watch. “Dinner at seven?”

“That’s fine.”

Phil climbed in on the passenger side of the tow truck and sent a photo of Natasha’s car, just as they had found it in the morning, as well as the hypodermic cap in the dirt in the shadow of her car door, to Nick’s phone. He waited. He was nearly back to the SHIELD lab when his phone rang.

***

“Can we talk?” Bucky pleaded as soon as Steve walked in. Steve went straight for the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap.

“Talk.”

“We’ve never been exclusive,” Bucky stated. ‘That was never something you asked for from me. Maybe I should’ve talked to you first, but you used to think it was cute when I was impulsive and… If I stopped to think, I might’ve missed something really special.”

“You never thought any of those girls were something special. I’m irritated that you slept with my friend. But I’m hurt. I’m hurt because you’re in love with her. When we were young and during the war, you only loved me. I shared you with those women because I thought part of you was better than none.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know. It feels like there’s less to go around.”

***  
Nick’s phone vibrated as he waited for a cab outside Charles de Galle. When he looked at the screen, his heart dropped into his stomach. He felt immediately cold and nauseated. His hands shook as he called Phil. Nick struggled not to hyperventilate as the phone rang and rang. It went to voicemail. As Nick cursed under his breath and prepared to dial again, another photo popped up. This one was of Natasha, taken from the side, her attention on something else. A bruise was visible high on her cheek and another on the side of her neck that looked suspiciously like a thumb print. There was a glimpse of Clint in the background. 

Nick took a few wavering steps and sat down hard on a nearby bench. The vise grip on his chest released. He dialed again. 

“Oh, hello,” Phil answered. “Catch you at a bad time?”

“What happened?”

“Someone tried to kidnap her, luckily she was able to escape. Where are you?”

“I-“

“No, better question,” Phil interrupted. “Why aren’t you here?”

“I just landed in Paris,” Nick answered. “Literally minutes ago. Someone took a couple shots at Maddie.”

Phil’s entire tone shifted instantly. “Is she okay?”

“Her bodyguard’s in the hospital. She’s not hurt, just rattled. I need a few minutes to see if I can get a flight back tonight.”

“You don’t have to come back tonight,” Phil said. “I have things under control. I think the worst is over.”

“Are the kidnappers dead or in custody?” Nick asked.

“Neither.”

“I’m coming home tonight.”

“Nick, if Madeleine needs you,” Phil began.

“If I have to choose between what Madeleine needs and what Natasha needs, I’m on the next flight to New York.”

“You don’t,” Phil replied. “Natasha doesn’t, don’t drop everything and race to her side. She’s capable of dealing with this on her own. You know that.”

“I love that about her,” Nick said softly.

“I thought maybe you needed help prioritizing. She doesn’t know I sent you those pictures. Take a few days; take care of your friend. I’ll handle the investigation and the four of us can have a hunting expedition when you get back.”

***

“I was wondering if you’d let me draw one more vial of blood. I’d like to see how fast this is metabolizing.”

“Sure.” Natasha offered Bruce her right arm. “Gotta keep ‘em even.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty much back to normal.” She shrugged. 

Bruce kept frowning at her, his brows knit in concern.

“What?” Natasha prompted.

“You didn’t have those bruises last night.”

“They must’ve taken a while to show up.” 

“So they’re from the kidnapping?” Bruce pressed.

“We should start referring to it as an abduction. I’m not a kid.” She pulled a plastic bag out of her purse. “I almost forgot I snagged this for you.” An empty hypodermic rested at the bottom of the bag.

“That’s what they injected you with?”

“God, I hope so. You’ve got maybe an hour to figure out if there’s anything useful there. Residue maybe. Phil took everything else back to SHIELD, he’s going to notice it’s missing.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Bruce promised. 

Natasha felt a twinge of cramping in her lower abdomen as she headed back to her apartment. She carefully swept it, room by room. There was no sign of Bucky. She secured the windows and door and turned on the television. Natasha tucked herself on to the couch with a blue and green plaid blanket that smelled of Nick’s aftershave, and she slept.

***

“You alone tonight?” Steve asked. It was strange to see Bruce in the lab without Tony. 

“Date night for Tony and Pepper, figured I’d get some work done.”

“You’re busy, then. I won’t bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Steve.” Bruce smiled at him. 

“I have a really personal question.”

Bruce took off his glasses to give Steve his undivided attention.

“You and Tony and Pepper,” Steve began. “How does that work? They’re on a date right now, aren’t you beside yourself with jealousy?”

“I’m not naturally a possessive person.”

“But don’t you ever want 100% of his attention?”

“I get it. We take turns having date nights, Tony and Pepper, Tony and me, Pepper and me. We have a schedule, but I think everyone’s favorite is the time we all spend together, the three of us. Tony’s probably better at explaining. It just works.”

***

“I’m starting to think someone wants me dead,” Madeleine remarked. 

“You’re just now starting to think that?” Nick glanced in the rear view mirror and changed lanes. 

“Thank you for being here. I’m glad you came.” She put her hand on his leg. 

“I wanted to make sure you were safe.” 

“I’m not sorry your flight was cancelled if it means I can keep you a few more days,” she admitted. Her hand crept further up his thigh. 

“Charles de Galle is shut down but I was able to get a flight out of Orly,” Nick said. “I leave in three hours.” 

“Just like that?” Madeleine sounded hurt.

“I have to get back, it’s been nearly a week.”

“There’s nothing for you there but heartbreak.” 

“There’s nothing for me here but memories.” He didn’t need to mention that not all of them were pleasant.

Madeleine withdrew her hand from his lap and spent the remainder of the ride sulking quietly. 

***

It had taken a few days, but Bruce finally had a few answers for Natasha. He stopped by her apartment first thing in the morning. “Is this an okay time?”

Natasha stepped aside to let him in. “You have something?”

“I do.” He pulled up his notes on his tablet. “The hypodermic: pretty standard blend of tranquilizers and paralytics, medical grade. Possibly traceable, that stuff is usually pretty controlled. I figured I could safely leave that up to SHIELD. There’s nothing really interesting about it. The other drug,” Bruce tried to hide his excitement. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The combination of components… I started comparing what I was finding to some of the files Tony hacked from SHIELD.”

“You found a match?”

***  
“Are you busy?” 

“Yes, very,” Tony answered without looking up. “Working on something for you, actually.”

“The cryochamber,” Steve guessed.

“You peeked.”

“I came to talk to you about something else, if you have a minute.”

***

“Human chorionic gonadotropin and synthetic progestational steroidal ketone.”

“I understood two of those words, three if you count ‘and’,” Natasha said. 

“Stay with me. That was the bulk of what was left of the tablet, plus standard fillers and binders of course. Based on your bloodwork, it would’ve also contained cantharidin, testosterone, and seronatol. I’m sure you’ll recognize progestational steroidal ketone as progesterone, you might have heard of HCG, the common short name for human chorionic gonadotropin. It’s – “ Bruce stopped.

“It’s what?”

***

“How can you love Bruce and Pepper at the same time?” Steve asked. “Isn’t there, I don’t know, I conflict of interest?”

“Love isn’t a finite resource. What’s this really about?”

Steve hesitated. 

“You didn’t take a sudden interest in my love life for no reason,” Tony said pointedly. 

“Bucky isn’t very good at monogamy. I’m trying to figure out if I could live with this.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Tony proclaimed. “Not because Polyamory, but because Bucky. Monogamy is the last on a very long list of things he’s not good at, including being emotionally stable and not trying to kill your friends.” He gestured to what looked like a large glass and metal wardrobe. “Hence the thing, right?”

***

“Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I get tunnel vision when I’m working on something. I don’t always think about the larger implications until…”

“Spit it out, Bruce,” Natasha snapped.

“It’s a fertility drug. HCG and progesterone induce ovulation. The other components would stimulate physical desire.” Bruce looked down at his tablet awkwardly. “It’s pretty obvious now what their intentions were. Are you okay?” He glanced up at her. 

“The Red Room had attempted to breed the perfect soldier, but as far as I know, all their efforts met with failure,” Natasha explained haltingly. “I was part of that program. Six pregnancies and six miscarriages in two years. Why try again now?”

“At least you got away,” Bruce said with a soft voice and kind eyes. 

“If I give you something, can you promise you won’t tell anyone, even Tony?”

“Not without knowing what it is.”

“When I left the Red Room, I destroyed their electronic records and literally burned everything I could. I kept the paper copy of my medical record. It’s all in fancy doctor speak, human chronic gonadotropic whatever. I need someone who can put it into plain language for me. Someone I can trust.” 

“I can do that,” Bruce promised.

“It’ll take me a few days to retrieve it, but I'll head out tomorrow.”

***

“If I ask you not to see her again?” Steve prompted.

“She’s avoiding me anyway,” Bucky said, sulking. 

“I need more of an answer than that. I think I deserve it.”

“I don’t know, Steve. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I also love her. And I don’t know if I can be the man you want.”  
“I want you.” Steve glanced at his phone. “It’s Tony,” he explained. “Look, I’ll be back in a little bit. Let’s not make any more rash decisions.”

The text from Tony was just two words: “It’s ready.”

***

“I was thinking,” Clint started.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s just the two of us in this three bedroom apartment…” he pressed on.

“It is,” Phil observed agreeably. “Our room, the guest room and the office.” 

“And we should keep the guest room or, as I like to call it, Natasha’s room. But we don’t really need an office. I mean, you have, like, three offices at SHIELD. I don’t use it for anything that I can’t do seven other places in the tower.”

“And?” Phil prompted.

“There’s totally room for another person to live here,” Clint stated. Phil raised an eyebrow. “I love you,” Clint rushed to assure him. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you.”

“But?”

“What if there was someone else that we both loved?”

“What are you talking about?” Phil’s voice took on a strained edge.

“I’ve been looking into ways that we could find someone….”

“Clint?”

“There’s domestic, there’s international. I actually feel pretty strongly about foster to adopt.”

Phil’s expression went from deeply knit concern to slack surprise. “You’re talking about a kid?”

“I think you’d make a really good dad.”

***

“It’s untested,” Tony said. “Well, I mean, it reaches the designated temperature within the designated time frame, but no human testing.”

Steve looked at the cryochamber. “It doesn’t look much like the one we found him in.”

“I made some tweaks, upgrades, technically. Obviously, some are aesthetic, but I’m also using a stable power source, a more efficient… you don’t care about the tech stuff, do you?”

“I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

“Great, I’m so glad I built it,” Tony retorted. “It’s neat, anyway, and the project gave me some interesting ideas I’m sure I can apply elsewhere. It’s fine, really.”

Steve captured Tony’s face with both hands and kissed him.

***

Both Clint and Phil’s phones vibrated and they gave each other a knowing look.

“Natasha,” they said in unison. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Phil promised. “I want to see what you’ve found out so far.”

***

Bruce stepped into the lab and froze in disbelief. He blinked slowly and backed out, closing the door silently. His stomach clenched in knots, he headed for what Tony had dubbed the green room. It featured triple reinforced walls, ceiling and floor, cheap furniture to smash and an electronically locking door. 

***

Natasha let herself into Clint and Phil’s apartment. 

“What kept you?” Clint teased.

“Just giving you two time to get dressed.”

“We weren’t…” Phil began.

“Shush, of course we were,” Clint interjected .

“That’s none of my business. Are you up for a road trip?”

“Ooh, where?”

“I’ve hidden some papers and now I need to get them back. I thought you would appreciate it if I didn’t go off on my own, considering.”

“Considering that people are trying to kill you?” Clint said.

“I’d feel better about this whole situation if they only wanted me dead.”

***

Tony shoved Steve away. “Dude!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurted out. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“I know I’m irresistible, but really, Steve, I only like you as a friend.”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I just – all this stuff with Bucky has me so…” Steve couldn’t finish. There wasn’t a word for how he felt. 

Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well get it together. That wasn’t even a good kiss.”

Steve stammered another apology as he fled the lab.

***


	26. Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, Pepper and Tony talk things out, Nick returns, cookies are eaten, hugs are shared, the truth comes out

Pepper headed to the lab when she returned from her duties at Stark Industries. She had a laundry list of things for Tony to review and sign off on and someone had brought cookies to the office, so she’d snagged one for each of her boys. 

“Where’s Bruce?” The question was simple enough, but Pepper’s tone was clearly one of ‘what did you do with him?’

“Huh?” Tony pulled off his headphones. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Oh. God. Tony. How much have you been drinking?” Pepper stared at him. Bruce usually curbed Tony’s drinking and made sure he ate food. 

“I dunno.” Tony half shrugged, half shook his head and made a face, pulling his chin back into his neck and rolling his eyes upward.

Pepper strode over to the trash can and looked down. Her eyebrows came together.

“Ha. I put them in the recycling bin!” 

“Jarvis!? Where’s Bruce?”

“Dr. Banner is in the safe place. He has been secured for approximately six hours and thirty eight minutes. There has been no incident,” Jarvis replied. 

“Wha? Why’s he in there for?” Tony asked. 

“Unknown, though if I had to guess, I would attribute it to his witnessing Captain Rogers kissing you earlier.”

Pepper had been heading out of the lab but she whipped back around and stared at Tony. “You kissed Steve?” 

“What? No! That is the opposite of what happened. Steve kissed me.” 

“You have had a crush on Steve Rogers from the minute you laid eyes on him. I knew you weren't capable of monogamy but I thought maybe, just maybe Bruce and I together would be enough for you." 

"He kissed me," Tony repeated. "I stopped him." 

"You stopped him?”

“As soon as I recovered from the shock. And spent the rest of the day drinking to forget, thank you very much.” 

Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “How long did it take to recover from the shock?” 

Tony did the half shrug, half head-shake again. “I don’t…Jarvis?” 

“The kiss lasted slightly less than six seconds.”

“Slightly less than sex sickens,” Tony stated. “Six seconds.”

Pepper's nostrils flared. 

“What do you want?” Tony shouted. "A bull rider couldn't do better. I pushed him away and I’ll tell you what, dude is fucking strong.” Tony’s anger had a sobering effect on him. “He practically assaulted me in my lab, my safe place. That’s why I’m drunk. Do you really think I would do something to hurt you and Bruce? That I’d risk losing both of you over a sucky kiss?” He panted for breath. “You’re enough. You’re more than I deserve. Pepper, please…”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Will you come with me to talk to Bruce?” 

Pepper nodded. “Is that coffee fresh-ish?” She gestured to the machine on the far wall.

“Yeah, probably. Dum-e kept bringing me cups and then mopping the floor when I knocked them out of his claw.”

“Here, this one’s yours.” She handed him a cookie.

“Snickerdoodle?” Tony brightened.

“Eat your cookie, drink your coffee, let’s go see to Bruce.”

***

“Going somewhere?”

Natasha slowly looked up at the mirror atop her dresser. She saw the reflection of Nick standing in the doorway. She turned around quickly, afraid he might disappear if she let him out of her sight. 

“You came back.”

***

“Bruce?” Pepper called out into the intercom. 

The anger he’d expected had failed him. He felt gutted, sitting on the floor without an ounce of strength.

“Sweetie?” Pepper tried again. “I’m going to have Jarvis open the door. Is it safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony’s with me, is that okay?” Pepper waited a long moment. “Bruce?”

“It’s not a no,” Tony said. 

Pepper gave him a warning look but the door opened. 

Tony didn’t give Bruce a chance to speak. “He kissed me. I put a stop to it. He’s freaking out over some bullshit with his boyfriend and decided to pull me into his drama. I’m sorry. I’m not sorry that I kissed Steve because I didn’t kiss Steve. I just don’t-- I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Tony, I’m not mad at you,” Bruce said. “I tried to be, but it hurts too much.” 

“I’ll kick him out. There’s no reason he needs to live here.”

“Tony,” Bruce shook his head. “Don’t…”

“Let’s get a dog. The three of us. It’ll be like having a kid but fluffier.”

“Tony,” Pepper warned. 

“I just-“

“Don’t do anything rash,” Bruce and Pepper were nearly in unison. 

Bruce sighed. “Would it be alright with you if I asked Steve about what happened?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t even kiss him back. And Steve’s like George Fucking Washington, he cannot tell a lie. Ask him.”

***

“I would’ve come back sooner but it seemed like every damn thing was conspiring to keep me away.” Nick set his bag down on the carpet. 

“Are you here to kill me?”

“No.” He shook his head. “God no. For what?”

“I killed your fiancée.”

“I think the girl who killed Pam died a long time ago.”

Natasha inched closer. “Can I just touch you? Just to be sure you’re real.”

Nick stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. “This is real.” She could feel his voice rumble through his chest. “I love you. Nothing will change that.”

Natasha stiffened and pulled back. “Are you sure about that?”

Nick frowned at her.

“I should tell you what happened while you were gone.”

***

“I’m going to go upstairs and call out for dinner,” Tony announced. “I need more than a cookie. Talk to Steve. If you’re coming up, come up.”

“I don’t need to talk to Steve,” Bruce said. “Let’s get Thai.” 

Tony frowned at him. “But you just asked…”

“And you said I could. You didn’t get defensive. So you have nothing to hide.” Bruce offered a weak smile. “It still hurts a little; I mean, I think it’ll take me more than four minutes to get over what I thought I saw but… I was wrong. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Tony, if you want to kick him out, we’ll both support you,” Pepper added. “You seem a little rattled by what Steve did.”

Tony shook his head. “I just want to know what the fuck is going on.”

***

“I slept with Barnes.”

Nick frowned. “Wh-when?”

“Let me start over. Four days ago, some people tried to abduct me. They ran my car off the road, drugged me, and dumped me in the trunk of a car. I got away. I came back to the tower and, well, first I went up to the lab. I let Bruce check me over for massive head trauma, and I had him draw some blood to figure out what they drugged me with. Then I came back here. He stopped by and one thing led to another.” Natasha sniffled. “I don’t love him; I don’t feel anything except slightly sick to my stomach. I just was really desperate, and he was really willing, and I’m so sorry.” 

“Phil told me about the abduction.”

“We’re supposed to head out first thing in the morning to collect my medical records from the Red Room, see if we can figure out some reason they might want me back after all this time.”

“You think the kidnappers were with the Red Room?”

“Are we going to just gloss over the thing with Barnes? Because I’d be okay with that I just assumed that you’d be more upset.”

“Do you plan on sleeping with him again?” Nick asked.

“God no.” Natasha didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t plan on sleeping with him this time. It was a temporary lapse in judgement brought on by the stress of the kidnapping and the drugs.”

“I do want to have a conversation about it. Later. The kidnappers represent an immediate threat to your safety. I want to find out who they are, what they want and how to stop them. What makes you think they’re connected to the Red Room?”

“The drugs,” Natasha answered. “One of the drugs was the same or very similar to something they used in the Red Room. It’s a tenuous thread, I know. Maybe I just don’t want to accept that I might have other enemies out there.”

“I got a call this morning, SHIELD got a positive ID on one of the guys.”

“They did?”

Nick nodded. “A HYDRA agent named Jack Duque. I want to start following that thread. You, Clint and Coulson go ahead and get your records. Might be two ends of the same knot.”

“If SHIELD got the intel, Phil will want in on that. I’ll take Clint.”

“No, I want a two man security detail on you. You can take both of them or you can draft someone else in the tower to tag along,” Nick insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though unstated, Bruce's cookie is oatmeal chocolate chip.


	27. Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Natasha talk. Nick and Bucky talk. Nick and Natasha and Clint and Phil go hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foul language, a bit of violence, conversations about rape, and period sex.

Nick was in the kitchen when Natasha came home. “How’d it go?” he called.

“We found everything,” she answered. “I was afraid some of it might’ve been damaged or gotten lost… Is that blood?” She peered around his arm at the pink water in the sink as he scrubbed at his shirt.

“It’s not mine.”

She kissed his bare arm. 

“I got a few names of people Duque might be working with. No lead on what he’s working on.”

“Dare I ask whose blood that is?” Natasha began unloading the dishwasher. 

“SHIELD has a couple of HYDRA operatives in captivity.” He unplugged the drain and let the water swirl out. “I also talked to Dr. Banner while you were gone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Any chance you might be pregnant?”

“I had some spotting earlier today, I’ll probably start in earnest tonight,” Natasha answered. “I’m feeling pretty relieved, though it does put a damper on any makeup sex.”

“If I can wash blood out of shirt, I can wash blood out of the sheets,” Nick replied. 

Natasha gave him a sideways glance, eyebrows raised, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

“One more question: would you classify what Barnes did as rape?”

Natasha’s surprised expression was answer enough. “I never would have thought of it like that. I didn’t try to stop him.”

“Banner’s impression was that you might not have been capable of meaningful consent.” He emphasized the word might. “But it’s your impression that matters. And, to be clear, I love you the same either way.”

Natasha turned, leaning her hips back into the kitchen counter. She tried to remember everything she’d said and done and felt. “I don’t know. If it doesn’t change how you feel about me, what difference does it make?”

“It changes how I feel about Barnes considerably.”

“Then it wasn’t,” Natasha said. “Don’t waste your energy on him.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Natasha reached out and dried his hands with the dishtowel before putting them around her waist. She rose up on her toes. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. The sunset painted the walls pink. The dishtowel hanging from her grip tickled between his shoulder blades. “I forgive you.”

***

Steve opened the door with a black eye. Nick frowned. “I need to talk to your boyfriend.”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“It’s a fine time for me.”

There was a clattering sound from the kitchen. Steve raced in to check on Bucky and Nick followed at a more casual pace. There were spoons scattered across the floor.

“Where are the knives?” Bucky shouted. 

“I put-“ Steve began.

“I need a fucking knife!” Bucky’s voice went shrill. 

“I put them somewhere safe.” Steve kept his voice calm, quiet. 

“Fucking fag, what gives you the right!” 

Nick stepped forward, quickly, and grabbed Bucky. He kicked one knee to make it buckle and slipped his arm around the man’s throat, putting him into a sleeper hold. “That’s enough.”

“Let him go!” Steve exclaimed. 

“That’s enough,” Nick repeated, pulling his head back to avoid Bucky’s desperately clawing hands. 

“Stop it!”

“I’m not going to hurt him, just taking control of the situation. Calm down.” 

Bucky’s struggles grew weaker. 

“Calm down.”

Nick let go and Bucky pitched forward, gasping. 

“We need to talk.” 

He looked over his shoulder at Nick and glared. “Fuck you.” Bucky spit at Nick. 

“Can you give us a minute, Captain?” Nick looked to Steve. 

“He’s having a bit of a rough day,” Steve explained. Bucky growled. 

“It won’t take long.”

“This really isn’t a good time,” Steve reiterated, but he backed out of the kitchen. 

“What do you want?” Bucky snarled.

“Stay away from Natasha.”

“Heh. Hehe. Huh.” Bucky’s smile was damned unnerving. “Jealousy suits you. You’re walking all tall. I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me though.”

“Just keep your distance.”

“All pissed off because while you were away I was the one who took care of her?” Bucky stood up, squaring off against Nick.

“You took advantage of her, that’s what you took.” 

Bucky snorted. “Is that what she told you?” he scoffed. “Of course. Couldn’t very well tell you the truth. Couldn’t tell you how I made her cum so hard she squirted. Or how she yowled like a damn cat in heat when I had my dick buried in her ass. She wouldn’t dare tell you how I was best she’d ever had.”

Nick tamped his temper down. “No. She told me how she hit her head and was suffering a concussion. She told me how she’d been drugged and assaulted. She told me she was hurt. You exploited that. You saw an opportunity and you took it. You were wrong. I won’t stand here and listen to you degrade and disrespect her. If you come near her again, I will end you.” Nick shoulder checked him as he walked past. 

“You and what army, old man?”

Nick glanced back and smiled. “They’re called the Avengers.”

***

There were four men playing cards when they kicked in the door. Nick shot one of them twice in the head. The others began to scramble but three guns and bow was enough to make them think twice. 

“Which one’s Duque?” Clint asked. 

“The Aryan dream,” Phil replied. 

“And the other two?”

“Worthless,” Natasha answered, shooting one straight through the eye. Phil took out the third with another headshot and they all trained their weapons on Duque. 

“What did you want with Romanov?” Fury demanded, enunciating clearly. 

Duque shook his head. “There’s worse things that a bullet in the head, man. Sorry, but Petrovich is a hell of a lot scarier than you.” 

Natasha’s stomach somersaulted at the name, but she kept her expression the same. 

“He’s right,” Phil acknowledged. He stepped forward and kicked the table, scooting it several feet. He trained his weapon on Duque again. “Hawkeye.”

Clint moved in, sliding his bow up over his arm. “Hands behind your back, no, don’t get up.” He used his microcable dispenser to tie the man to the chair. 

Duque just kept shaking his head. “I can’t. I can’t tell you. You don’t understand how fucking crazy this dude is, man.”

Natasha holstered her gun and drew her knife instead. “Jack, do you know what the largest organ in the human body is?” 

He looked her with equal parts confusion and surprise. “What?”

“The largest organ in the human body, do you know what it is?” Natasha repeated slowly.

“N-no.”

“Go ahead and guess.” She slowly strolled towards him, passing the knife from one hand to the other. 

“Uh, uh,” Duque looked at the men, their faces impassive. “The liver?”

Natasha smiled and propped her foot on the chair between his knees. “It’s the skin.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The liver is the second largest organ in the human body.


	28. Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proposal, a revelation and a promise

“Did you guys find out anything useful?” Pepper asked as she set the table. 

“Nothing we didn’t already suspect,” Phil sighed. “Firstly, they are working with some former members of the Red Room.”

“Called it,” Natasha interjected.

“Including Vladislov Petrovich, son of the Red Room’s founder, Ivan Petrovich.”

“Wait, did you say Vladislov?” Tony said. 

“Yes,” Phil gave him a curious look.

“Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more…” Tony began dancing through the kitchen. 

“Second,” Phil sighed. “That they are resurrecting a super soldier breeding program code named project Wolf Spider.”

“I don’t have a joke for that,” Tony admitted. 

“And third,” Phil continued. “That I don’t want to get on Natasha’s bad side.”

That earned him a curious look. 

“We’re about to sit down to dinner…” Phil gestured to the table.

“I should’ve brought pliers,” Natasha remarked. “Next time we have a mission like this, make sure I bring pliers.”

“It’s been nearly three months, they haven’t made another move but we’re not any closer to any answers.” Frustration seeped into Phil’s voice. 

“Speaking of not making any progress,” Tony looked at Steve. “How’s Bucky?” Pepper elbowed him I the ribs. “Ow.”

“I was actually just going to take a couple plates and head back to our apartment.”

“Will he be all right alone for just a little bit?” Pepper asked. “You should eat with us, Steve. We miss you.” 

“He’s actually been really quiet the past few weeks. I’m not sure… I’m not sure he knows who I am; every time I come into the room, he asks me if I have a mission for him and calls me sir.” Steve shrugged. “I tell him no and he just goes back to sitting in the chair, staring at the wall.” 

“He doesn’t seem agitated?” Natasha asked.

“No. It’s hard to tell. He seems so blank most of the time.”

“Well, I can totally see why you’d rather watch your boyfriend stare at the wall then have dinner with us,” Tony said. “Ow.”

“I didn’t elbow you!” Pepper objected.

“Reflex,” Tony retorted. 

“I guess I could eat and then take his plate up. He doesn’t eat much these days anyway.” 

The conversation turned to lighter topics. After dinner, Nick and Phil were drafted for cleanup, Steve took a plate for Bucky, and the others excused themselves to various tasks. 

“She’s not wearing it,” Phil remarked. 

“I haven’t asked yet.” Nick stacked plates without looking up.

“Any particular reason why not?” Phil busied himself wiping down the counters.

“Too many distractions. Things have been a little stressful lately.”

“Nick, if you wait for things to settle down, you’ll never ask.” Phil chuckled. “That just isn’t the way our lives work.” 

“I know.”

“Do you want my advice?” Phil didn’t wait for a response. “Do it tonight. Go upstairs and propose when we’re done here. Because not everything in your life is going to be perfect and romantic and go according to play. Because you don’t love her less when she’s got no shoes or makeup on and blood under her nails and she doesn’t love you less when you haven’t shaved and have dish soap on your wrist. Not everything has to be a grand gesture. A lot of marriage is little, private moments and accepting each other when you’re imperfect.”

“That’s actually good advice.”

“Change of subject?” Phil flashed a nervous smile. “Could I list you as a personal reference?”

“What for?”

“Adoption application.”

***

Natasha was on the couch when Nick came into the apartment. She’d taken off her shoes and had her feet tucked under her. She was reading something on her tablet. 

“Can you grab the tums while you’re up?” She called as Nick slipped into the bedroom. 

He retrieved the ring from its hiding spot in an empty ammo box and stopped by the bathroom to get tums from the medicine cabinet. 

“You feeling okay?” he asked, returning to the living room.

“I love Bruce, but I just can’t do the spicy food these days. I have heartburn. Is this what getting old feels like?” 

“Why are you asking me?” Nick teased. “Are you insinuating that I’m old? Heads up.” He tossed the bottle of antacids to her. 

Natasha dropped her tablet into her lap to catch. “Whatcha got there?” she asked as she crunched two of the tablets, eying the black box in Nick’s hand. 

He turned the box over and around in his palm. “I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.” He knelt down next to the couch. Nick took a deep breath and opened the box. “Natasha Romanov, will you marry me?”

***

“Well, Nick said yes,” Phil announced. “Are you eating again?” 

Clint was in the kitchen, making peanut butter toast. “Not yet. I’m preparing to eat again. I didn’t ask Natasha.”

“Clint,” Phil scolded.

“She seemed like she wasn’t feeling well. I don’t blame her. I love Bruce, but, man…I hate his cooking. I don’t know how Pepper and Tony can eat like that all the time. There was more curry in that chicken than there was chicken.”

“It was good. It was also lamb.” Phil shook his head. “Anyway, the sooner we can get them to do their part of the paperwork, the sooner we can turn it in. This is going to take a while.”

“I know,” Clint said. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow or Friday.”

***

Natasha’s mouth fell open. She looked from the ring to Nick and back again. She reached out with a trembling hand and pushed the lid of the box closed. She met Nick’s waiting gaze. 

“I’m pregnant.”

***

“Do you have a mission for me?”

“No, Bucky, I have dinner for you.” All the lights were off in the apartment when Steve came in, but Bucky was sitting right where he’d left him, staring at the wall. Steve set the plate on the arm of the chair. He turned on a floor lamp instead of the overhead light. “Buck?” 

Bucky looked at the plate and wrinkled his nose. “What is that?”

“It’s curried lamb,” Steve answered. “It’s pretty good, actually, but I could make something else for you if you want.”

***

“What?”

“Remember when you asked me if there was any chance I could be and I said I’d probably start later that day?” Natasha asked. “I didn’t. I haven’t. So I took a test. And then another one. I kept thinking that I’d miscarry, that any day the bleeding would start. It’s always gone that way before. But it hasn’t. I’m going to the doctor Thursday.”

“I don’t want to downplay the significance of what you’re telling me but, is this a yes or a no on the marriage thing? If you need time to think, I understand.” 

“It’s Bucky’s.” Natasha was blunt. “Even ignoring the condoms and the vasectomy, the timing … it couldn’t be yours. Are you sure you don’t want to rescind your proposal?”

“I’m sure.”

Natasha rolled off the couch, landing on her knees facing him. “Yes.” She kissed him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

“Here.” Nick took her hand and carefully eased the ring onto her third finger.

“It’s so pretty.”

“It’s titanium and meteorite and a vintage diamond and it’s as strong and as rare and as beautiful as you are.”

“When did you get so sentimental?” Natasha teased.

“I must be getting old. Do you want me to come with you on Thursday?” 

Natasha sighed. “I need to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“I’m here for you whatever you decide.”

“I know what I should do,” she said. “I know the right thing, the smart thing is to terminate. If this is something the Red Room wanted, no good can come of it. And I never pictured myself as a mother. I thought it was impossible.” She leaned forward, resting her head on his chest as Nick stroked her hair. “But what if this is the only chance I get?” She looked down at the ring. “Did you ever want kids?”

“I don’t want to answer any questions that might sway your decision.”

“If I keep it, we’d never be safe. None of us would ever be safe.” 

“I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” Nick promised.


	29. Twenty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and announcements are made, lines are drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is, as expected, discussion of abortion in this chapter. References to past underage relations and also references to drug use, sex work and the movie Frozen.

The nurse asked about a thousand questions. The doctor came in and asked about half of them again. They took a urine sample and a blood sample and performed an ultrasound. Natasha was exhausted when they left. 

“Can I take you to lunch?” Nick offered, opening her car door for her. 

“Sixteen weeks.”

“I heard.” Nick circled around the car and got in on the driver’s side. 

“That gives me a little less than eight to make a decision, schedule and appointment and get it taken care of.” Natasha bit the edge of her thumbnail. 

“The longer you wait, the higher the risk of complications. And while you have very good abdominal tone, you don’t have eight weeks until you start showing,” Nick pointed out. 

Natasha stretched her shirt taut over her abdomen and looked down critically. “I think I’m showing already.”

“You look like you had a big lunch,” Nick replied. “That looks more like burrito than baby.”

“Ooh, Mexican sounds good.”

“How’s that heartburn treating you?” 

Natasha made a face. “It’s the size of an avocado. The baby, not the heartburn. Fuck it, I want guacamole and I’m prepared to deal with the consequences. Lunch, please?”

Nick started driving towards a place he knew Natasha liked. “Well, at least you made a decision about lunch. Can you give me an idea where you’re at with…the other thing?” 

“The baby? You can call it that,” Natasha said.

“I think technically it’s a fetus at this point.”

“You don’t want me to keep it, do you?”

“I want you to make a choice that you’re happy with,” Nick insisted.

“But you had a vasectomy, you clearly don’t want kids. You’re going to marry me and end up raising some other man’s baby and resenting me for it. That matters. That’s a factor in my decision making.”

Nick sighed. “Pam didn’t want kids.” 

“Why not?”

“I never asked, but she was very sure about it.”

“You had it done for her?” Natasha asked.

“She didn’t ask me to, I offered. Then she died, and I already had the appointment scheduled. Then the coroner…” Nick pulled over. Natasha looked at him in concern.

“The coroner what?”

“She was pregnant when she died.” He was shaking. “I don’t think she planned to tell me.” Natasha touched his arm lightly and he looked at her. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to feel about any of this. I know I want you and whatever comes with you.” 

“I want to keep it,” Natasha admitted. “I just wish it was yours.” 

“Who’s to say it isn’t?”

“Um, science?”

“Who, besides the two of us, knows when we had sex and when you conceived?” 

“What if it looks just like him?”

“I’ll pistol whip anyone who mentions it.”

Natasha smiled. “Whoever said ‘violence isn’t the answer’ never met you.”

“They just weren’t asking the right question.” He smiled back at her. “Are you sure about this?”

Natasha looked down at the envelope in her lap, pink and blue blocks spelling out “baby” on the front, pictures from the ultrasound tucked inside. “I’m sure.”

***

Everyone had settled around the table when Natasha spoke. “Nick and I have an announcement to make.” She prompted him with a shoulder nudge. Phil was already smiling.

“We’re getting married,” Nick proclaimed.

Pepper squealed. She jumped up and raced around the table, shaking her hands. “Is there a ring? Let me see!” 

Natasha dutifully held out her left hand. “Ooh, that’s different. It suits you.” 

“He picked it himself.” Natasha smiled proudly. 

“Nice, what’s it, about a half carat?” 

“A third,” Nick said. “Modest by today’s standards but it was big for its time. The stone was my grandmother’s, I had it reset.” 

“Very nice,” Pepper cooed. “Well done.” It wasn’t clear if she was addressing Nick for picking the ring or possibly Natasha for picking Nick. 

“I think this calls for champagne,” Tony announced, heading to the kitchen. 

“Congratulations,” Bruce said as he followed Tony to help get glasses.

“I told you you deserve to be happy,” Clint added with a grin. 

“There’s a difference between deserving something and taking it and running with it,” Natasha replied. “But I’m going to take this and run with it.” 

“I’m happy for you guys,” Steve said. “Have you set a date yet?”

Natasha glanced at Nick before answering. “Not yet, but we definitely want to wait until after that baby is born and I’ll need some time to take off the pregnancy weight.”

“Did you say baby?” Pepper said.

“That’s part two of our announcement,” Natasha replied. “We’re expecting.”

Pepper shrieked and threw her arms around Natasha.

“I’m being hugged.” Natasha seemed very uncomfortable.

“Just relax and let it happen,” Bruce advised. “So, no champagne?”

“Everyone else can have some, and should,” Natasha said. “The ‘we’ in ‘we’re expecting’ is figurative. I think Nick’s drinking for two these days.” 

“There’s premarital sex going on in my tower?” Tony teased. “I’m not sure I approve.”

Clint circled around the table. “Stand up, you’re about to be hugged again.” Natasha stood, returning Clint’s embrace.

“There’s premarital sex going on in your penthouse,” Phil declared. “Don’t act like a prude. And move your bed away from the wall, some of us go to work in the mornings.”

The others laughed. 

“Can I talk to the blushing bride alone for a moment?” Bruce asked. 

Natasha finished hugging Clint and nodded. She trailed Bruce into the hallway, out of earshot, while Phil and Steve were busy congratulating Nick. 

“Something I should know?” Natasha was immediately serious.

“Do you get sick often? Colds? Flu? Things like that?” Bruce asked. 

“Almost never.” Natasha shook her head. 

“They did an extensive amount of immunotherapy, supercharged your system to fight off darn near anything.”

“That sounds like a good thing?” She frowned, her hand going to her belly. 

“Ever heard of graft vs host? It’s not uncommon in transplant recipients, the immune system attacks the new organ. It used to happen regularly during pregnancy if there was an Rh incompatibility,” Bruce began.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Your immune system thinks the fetus is a hostile organism and attacks it.”

“That’s why I had all the miscarriages?”

Bruce nodded. “It’s actually deliberate. They sensitized your body to specific traits; any fetus that possessed those traits would be…weeded out.”

“But if it didn’t?”

“Theoretically, everything would be fine.”

“Is this baby in danger?” Natasha asked. 

“I don’t know. We could draw a blood sample,” he suggested. “A quick CBC would show if your white count is elevated. That would be a sign that your immune system is responding to something.”

“Meaning that I would lose it.” Natasha fought and won the battle to keep her voice from wavering.

“There are medications that can suppress your immune response. I need to determine if any of them would be safe during pregnancy and it would put you at an increased risk for infection,” Bruce explained. “I feel like I’m getting in a bit over my head. Would it be okay if I consulted one of the doctors Tony has on staff?”

Natasha nodded. “Can we do the bloodwork first?”

“We can do it right after dinner,” Bruce assured her. “It’ll only take fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes, and everything might come back just fine.”

“Meaning that this baby has the traits they wanted.”

“There’s that tunnel vision again.” Bruce offered a nervous, apologetic smile. “I wish I had better news.” 

“Let’s go eat dinner, we’ll head up to the lab after.” Natasha smiled back. “It’s not your fault the news is bad.”

“Everything alright?” Nick asked as they returned.

“Everything’s fine.” Natasha sat down, reached over and squeezed his hand. Everyone began to eat.

“Nick says you’re due in March,” Pepper said. “You could have a fall wedding. You look fantastic for 16 weeks, I bet you’ll bounce right back.”

“I don’t know. What’s my matron of honor think?” Natasha looked to Clint expectantly.

“I think if you’re going to call me that, I’m not going to do it.”

“Well, you’re married so you can’t be a maid of honor.”

“Man of honor?” Clint suggested. “I could live with man of honor.”

“You do live with a man of honor,” Phil interjected. 

“Well, I want you to know that I’m happy to help out with anything,” Pepper offered. “For the wedding or the baby. I’m apparently never having either of these things and would be honored and delighted to live vicariously through you.”

“Um, thank you. I don’t have many girl friends,” Natasha replied. “So I’m sure you’ll be involved with all the showers and the bachelorette party and everything.”

“Ooh, bachelorette party. We need to be able to get you drunk for that,” Clint declared. “There will be vodka and gambling and male strippers.”

“Can I come to the bachelorette party?” Phil asked.

Nick sighed. “Phil, I respect and admire you and I’d love to have you as my best man, but I think I’m going to need a straight friend to plan my bachelor party.”

“Otherwise it’ll be Supernanny and Chippendales,” Bruce agreed.

“Oh.” Tony raised his hand. “I’m bi but I throw the best parties.” 

“If you get him killed or arrested, you’ll have to answer to me,” Natasha warned.

“I’m, like, 98% sure Tony has put his ‘coke off a hooker’s ass’ days behind him,” Pepper stated.

“It was her breasts.” Tony held up one finger. “She was a dancer.” He held up a second finger. “And 98%?” He held up a third finger, looking offended. 

“Oh. My. God.” Pepper stared at him. “I was kidding, you didn’t really-“

“When did you-“ Bruce began.

“Never,” Tony interjected quickly. “Ha ha, never. I was drinking, that’s it, drinking coca cola. Out of a cup. On a dancer’s breasts.”

“That escalated quickly,” Clint observed.

“You used to have one tooth that was crooked.” Bucky was staring at Natasha. Her smile vanished, along with most of the color in her face.

“What?”

“I was disappointed that they fixed,” he continued. “It-“

“Made my smile unique,” Natasha finished. “You’ve said that before.” She saw Nick shift his weight out of the corner of her eye. 

“Natalya.” Bucky felt the familiarity of the name on his tongue.

Natasha shook her head. “You know what? They didn’t fix it. It was a baby tooth. It fell out and the permanent tooth came in straight.”

“Baby tooth?” Bucky frowned. 

“I changed. People don’t stay the same forever.”

“I… baby tooth? How old were you?”

Natasha sighed exasperatedly. “Twelve. Let the past stay buried; no good will come of digging it up.”

“Twelve?”

“Let it go.”

Everyone had fallen silent. 

“I can’t believe she beat me to the Elsa-Winter Soldier connection,” Tony remarked. Pepper elbowed him sharply. “Ow. Worth it.”

“We were friends, weren’t we?” Bucky asked. His voice was so small, so uncertain and hurt. “And more? And now you seem to hate me and I don’t remember why.”

“I don’t hate you,” Natasha clarified. “I just wish I’d never met you.” She pushed back from the table and walked out of the dining room. Nick stood, holstering his gun in very plain view of everyone. 

“I told you once to stay away from her, you only get one warning,” he addressed Bucky before following Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The science is admittedly a little shaky but if you read an article about activation immunotherapy and also one on fetal-maternal microchimerism, it starts to sound very plausible. Rh incompatibility is a very real thing which can lead to miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death.


	30. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty thirty! (Implied) sex, conversations about sex and kids and marriage and religion, and mostly good things. You're only young once, but you can be immature forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger for a bit of homophobic language. As a commenter pointed out, this fic is a roller coaster. This chapter is up!

“You’re shaking,” Nick said quietly, putting his hands on Natasha’s arms. 

“That first summer,” Natasha began. “We were friends. He was…he seemed kind, lost and a little lonely. We became friends. We didn’t sleep together. I moved on to train with someone else. The next time I saw him, he didn’t seem to recognize me at first, but he didn’t hurt me. I was fool enough to think that made him special. Another six months went by and they assigned us together on a long-term basis. I fell for him. I fell in love with him. So when he did hurt me, I made excuses for him. I never could figure out if it was his memory, forgetting things he’d done and remembering things that had never happened or if he was manipulating me. But I let it go on for three years, getting worse and worse. He broke my ribs, my arm, my jaw in two places… he never seemed to know that he’d done it. He was abusive in the worst possible ways and I just couldn’t hold it against him. I’m afraid of what will happen if he remembers everything. Afraid for him and afraid of him.”

“Why don’t you take a shower and we’ll call it an early night?” Nick suggested. 

“I’ve got to run up to the lab, I promised Dr. Banner a vial of blood.”

“What for?”

“If it’s something to worry about, I’ll tell you,” Natasha promised. 

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Natasha shook her head. “I think I’m going to hit the gym after, I’m not tired. The opposite, I’m restless.” She turned to the side and examined her figure in the mirror. “And I know I’m pregnant, but I swear my ass is getting bigger.”

“You look good to me.”

“I always look good to you.”

“Good enough to eat,” Nick said, licking his lips.

“Yeah? Wait up for me. If it’s good news in the lab, we can have celebratory sex. And if it’s bad news, we can have comfort sex.” 

***

Bruce frowned. “Your white counts are slightly elevated.”

“Meaning?” Natasha asked.

“I’m going to have consult an actual md. I’m sorry, Natasha. This is just too important for me to be guessing and experimenting.”

“It’s okay. So…inconclusive?”

“I’m afraid so. It could be nothing. It could be that you were exposed to a cold and your body is reacting to that.”

“Or it could be that I’m going to…”

“Don’t say it, not yet,” Bruce pleaded. “I’ll talk to Dr. Jacobs first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing.”

“I mean it,” Natasha said. “I appreciate you getting the ball rolling on this.” She did, but she headed to the gym with a heavy heart nonetheless. 

She put on her headphones and stepped onto the elliptical. She only worked out for twenty minutes before she decided she’d rather be with Nick. 

He looked up expectantly when she walked in.

“Inconclusive,” she announced. 

“What does that mean? What was he even testing for?” Nick asked, dropping his tablet onto the couch as he stood up.

“There’s a possibility that my immune system would attack the baby like it would a virus. My white blood cell count is slightly high, but not high enough for us to be sure that’s happening. Bruce is going to talk to one of the medical doctors in the morning and I suspect I’m going to be in for more testing.” 

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. 

“I know this isn’t what either of us had planned but…”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I know.” 

“What were you doing?” she gestured to his tablet.

“Reading,” he answered. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”

Natasha studied his face for a moment before kissing him. “Come shower with me.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Nick pulled her t-shirt up and off and began tugging down her pants.

“Really, I need a shower,” Natasha insisted.

“Mm-hmm.” Nick trailed kisses over her sports bra and down her stomach.

“Really,” Natasha repeated. “I’m dirty.” 

He pulled her pants and underwear down to her thighs and kissed her pubic mound. “I know.” Natasha moaned and put her hand on his head. 

“I was thinking after the shower, but we can do this first,” she murmured. Nick lifted her onto the couch and pulled her clothes the rest of the way off, pausing for a moment to fumble with her shoes. 

“We should take this to the bedroom,” Nick suggested.

Natasha nodded breathlessly. 

***

By bedtime, Bucky seemed to have forgotten all about Natasha. He was happier and more himself than Steve had seen him in months. He smiled and flirted and teased Steve about his hair, which was in need of a trim. He was cuddly and affectionate and Steve suddenly remembered why he’d loved him so much. 

***

Sixteen Weeks Four Days

“Let’s take things slow,” Dr. Jacobs said. “Aside from a very slightly elevated white blood count, everything looks fantastic.” He glanced down at the records from Dr. Welch’s office. “You’re measuring right on target, you say you feel good, the little one has a good, strong heartbeat. I don’t want to rush into a course of treatment that’s going to be unnecessary and potentially dangerous.”

“You really think everything is okay?” Natasha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

“If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. I want to see you next week,” he said. “Sooner if you have any cramping, discharge, fever or even if you just feel ‘off’. I do want to monitor you, both of you,” he gestured to her stomach. “Very closely. So, I’ll recheck your blood work in a week. In the meantime, take it easy.”

***

“There are two extra bedrooms,” Nick said. “Which one do you want to use for the baby?”

“I’m thinking the bigger one,” Natasha answered. “Babies are little but they have a lot of stuff.”

“True, anyway the big one has a ceiling fan.”

“Is that important?” She frowned at him. 

“I read that it can reduce the risk of SIDS.”

“Oh.” She touched her belly lightly. “Definitely that one, then.”

“I’ll start clearing it out.”

“Get one of the other guys to help you.”

“I can manage it,” Nick scoffed.

“That desk is heavy,” Natasha insisted. “And your back isn’t what it was before you got a building dropped on you.” 

“I’ll see if Barton’s busy.”

Natasha smiled.

“Do you want to find out the sex before the baby’s born?” 

“God yes,” she replied. “I need pronouns stat. It feels weird to keep calling it ‘it’ but…”

“Few more weeks,” Nick said. “Then we can talk names and decorating the nursery.”

“In the meantime, should we talk wedding plans?” Natasha suggested. “Or…we could christen that room before you clean it out.”

“This must be that second trimester hormone thing…”

“You’ve been doing a lot of reading.”

“I like to be informed.” 

“So, sex in the spare bedroom?” Natasha asked.

“I bet you could talk me into it.” 

***

“Are we willing to accept a child with mild to moderate special needs?” Clint read aloud. 

“Yes?” Phil frowned. “What’s considered mild to moderate?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to check yes and note that we’re both fluent in ASL.” 

“I don’t know that I’d call myself fluent,” Phil objected. 

Clint snapped his fingers to get Phil’s attention and signed “Practice.” 

“Ok.” Phil signed back. He shook his head. “I thought you vetted these.”

“I did.”

“Number seven: do you promise to raise your child in the covenant of grace?” Phil read. 

“You can be a gay Christian.”

“Spoken like someone who never got beat up in Vacation Bible School.”

“Really?” Clint said.

“They pulled my shirt up and wrote fag across my chest with a Sharpie. The pastor said I was lucky it wasn’t a switchblade,” Phil recounted. “Covenant of grace?”

“Just throw that one out.” Clint felt cold all over. 

“Maybe we should talk about what kind of religious upbringing we want for our child,” Phil said. Clint stood up and forcibly turned Phil’s chair to face him. 

“Come here,” Clint demanded hoarsely, pulling his husband into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about all that?”

“It’s not important, Clint. It was a thousand years ago.” Phil swallowed hard. “I just want to protect our kid from things like that.”

“You’re not hugging me back.”

Phil brought his arms up around Clint’s waist. “It doesn’t matter now because you love me. Even if I am a fag.”

“I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but I kind of love you because you’re a-“ Clint paused. “I can’t call you that word.” He kissed Phil. “I never had a bad experience with an actual church group, but I spent most of my youth in various parts of the Bible belt. I get it, I just never gave a shit about what anyone said or thought about me.” 

“Never?”

Clint shrugged. “I cared enough to want to prove them wrong.”

“I tried that. It didn’t pan out.” 

“Not about being gay,” Clint said. “About being weak or worthless or wrong somehow. About no one wanting me.”

“I want you,” Phil said.

“I know.” Clint smiled at him. “There are plenty of people and plenty of churches who won’t care that our kid has two dads. But I’m going to defer to you on this. You can finish the application or throw it out and I don’t even want to know which.” 

“Can we take a break from the applications?” Phil asked. “Maybe cuddle and watch some Netflix?”

“I don’t know, cuddling leads to sinning,” Clint teased. 

“Oh, I have it on good authority that it’s not a sin anymore since we’re married.” 

“Still felt sinful last time.” Clint was smirking.

“Maybe we did something wrong,” Phil said. “We should try it again.”

***

“What do you think about getting married?”

Bucky nearly choked on his Lucky Charms. “What? To you?” 

“Nevermind.” 

“Steve,” he put his spoon down. “Stevie, I love you, but we can’t do that.”

“Clint and Phil have. The world’s changed, Bucky, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

Bucky shrugged and started eating again. “I don’t know. Ain’t we just…foolin’ around?”

“You just said you love me,” Steve pointed out. 

“Yeah, and I do but-“

“Not enough to marry me,” Steve concluded.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bucky objected, but he didn’t clarify what he was saying.

“It’s okay. It was just a question. It’s not like I’m proposing.”

“Damn right you’re not, that’d make me the bitch.” Bucky grinned. “We got a good thing going, don’t we?”

“We do.” Sometimes, Steve added silently. 

“And we’re still young, sort of, technically.” 

“I guess.”

“Don’t be so serious.”

“Our friends are getting married. Our friends are having kids. And we’re just doing what we’ve always done.” Disappointment rang in Steve’s voice.

“Yeah, taking care of each other. Like we’ve always done. Like we always will.” Bucky tilted his head so his hair fell over his eyes and waited. Steve leaned forward and brushed it back, tucking the loose strands behind Bucky’s ear. 

“Like we always will,” Steve repeated. 

“This is really bugging you, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “No, forget I said anything.”


	31. Thirty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karaoke, nightmares, namesakes and combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence is the warning for this chapter, but there are a couple new tags that will come into play as the plot progresses

Seventeen weeks, two days

“CBC is normal,” Dr. Jacobs declared. “Maybe we caught you at the tail end of a cold last week, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary here.” He smiled warmly. “Same as before though, anything doesn’t feel right, come see me. I’ll check again next week and we can go from there.”

Natasha nodded.

He glanced back down at her chart. “Blood pressure’s a little high though. Watch your stress and your salt intake.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she grumbled. 

“Well, hopefully this helps with the stress.” 

“Thank you,” Nick said. He put his arm around Natasha as they left. “Feeling better?”

“Starting to.” Natasha looked at her phone. “Clint wants to know if we’re coming to karaoke tonight.”

“Up to you.”

“Maybe? Karaoke is not as much fun sober, but I want to see the guys.”

“I’m glad I’m drinking for two,” Nick replied. 

***

“I’ve been watching a lot of Glee,” Clint announced. “No apologies.” He cleared his throat. The opening strains of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ started to play.

“It could be worse,” Tony observed.

“He kept threatening to do Teenage Dream,” Phil said. 

“Shh,” Pepper hissed. Clint did a good job with the song and the crowd seemed to enjoy it. A few of the other regulars took their turns, including a girl who looked fifteen and got better at Adele’s ‘Rolling in the Deep’ each week. Pepper was up next and impressed with ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot.’

“Jamie Barnes,” the DJ called. Steve realized that Bucky wasn’t next to him the same time he took the stage, a long sleeved sweater covering his arms. 

“I, uh, can’t sing.” Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Lucky for all you, I just need to borrow the microphone to say six words: Steve Rogers, will you marry me?” 

Steve could hear the blood pounding in his ears, he was positive they were bright pink. Clint and Phil tugged him out of his chair and herded him towards the stage. “This isn’t funny,” Steve said between clenched teeth.

“I’m not joking,” Bucky replied. 

“Bucky.” Steve shook his head. 

“Have it your way.” Bucky gestured to the DJ. “It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you,” he crooned. Steve’s eyes widened. “Is it the look in your eye? Or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby? I think I wanna marry you.” Bucky pointed to Steve. “Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go. No one will know. Oh come on, dear.” 

“I’ll marry you!” A female voice shouted from the back of the bar. 

“Who cares if we’re trashed, got a pocket full of cash we can blow. Shots of patron. And it’s on, dear,” Bucky continued. He’d lied about not being able to sing and his enthusiasm was contagious. “Don’t say no, no, no, no, no.” He gestured for the crowd to join in. “Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. And we’ll go, go, go, go, go.”

Steve turned and fled. 

“Don’t go!” Bucky shouted, but Steve was already gone, out the door. Bucky fumbled the microphone back into the stand and took off after him.

“I’m not talking to you,” Steve declared. He’d rushed out without his jacket and the night air was cold. 

“What’d I do?”

“You humiliated me in a room full of people!” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“I humiliated you? You’re the one who ran out in the middle of my proposal.”

“Because it was mortifying.”

“It was? I figured it’d be romantic,” Bucky said. 

“I thought you didn’t want to get married.”

“I thought you did. Trust me, I wouldn’t have gone so public with this if I thought you were gonna shoot me down.”

Steve took a trembling breath, watching fog form as he released it. “Do you really want to marry me?”

“I really don’t want to lose you.” Bucky’s eyes were dark and glistening, his voice mournful. 

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I love you.” There was quiet desperation in Bucky’s admission. 

“I love you too.”

“Can we go back in? It’s freezing out here.”

“Can we just get a cab back to the tower?” Steve suggested. 

***  
Seventeen weeks, six days

Natasha perched on the edge of the bed to tie her shoes. She felt Nick stroke her back.

“Going to the gym?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“When that kid demands to be walked to sleep at two in the morning, I’m blaming you.”

Natasha smiled. “Go back to sleep.”

***

“Yasha, do you remember me?” “Now you remember me.” “I love you.” “You shouldn’t be here.” “Help me.” “I wish I’d never met you.” 

Bucky woke up with a throbbing headache and a strong desire to hit something. He didn’t know where either had come from. Steve was sleeping peacefully beside him. Bucky’s knuckles itched. Wasn’t there a heavy bag in the gym downstairs? That was a good idea. Better than press the pillow over Steve’s face with both hands, bash him in the head with the lamp, squeeze his throat until… Bucky shuddered. He went into the bathroom to pee. He didn’t flush, not wanting to risk waking Natalya. Steve. The noise would surely wake Steve. He washed his hands, looking absently at the mirror, but not at his reflection. He could break the mirror, use the shards. He dried his hands. He didn’t bother to put on shoes or a shirt. In red and black plaid pajama pants, he headed to the gym.

***

Natasha put on her headphones and started the elliptical. She let her mind wander, focused on the rhythm of her strides. Her eyes grew heavy; it was almost meditative. 

‘Even if we find out the sex, we should pick out names for both in case the ultrasound is wrong,’ Natasha thought. ‘Maybe I should make a list and Nick can make a list and we can see if there are any names in common. I like Joseph for a boy. It’s Nick and Phil’s middle name, but I want to honor Clint somehow. His middle name is Francis. Is Francesca Romanoff too much for a little girl? Wait…which last name is the baby going to have?’ Her mind was racing even faster than her legs.

There was a hand at her elbow and Natasha was yanked off the machine. She ducked her head and brought her arm up instinctively to block the incoming blow. She had to adjust when she realized what was incoming. Bucky swung a 45 pound cast iron kettlebell at Natasha’s head.

“Traitor!” 

She got her head out of the way but it glanced off her arm with painful force. Her foot shot out and drove into his knee and Natasha ran. Bucky swung the weight again as she bolted, catching her in the side between the hip and the ribs. She cried out in pain as she fell. Bucky dropped the weight, too slow and cumbersome, and tackled her. 

Upstairs, red and yellow lights flashed in all of the apartments. “Combat in the main gym,” Jarvis announced.

“Liar!” Bucky drew his fist back and Natasha grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard. She bucked her hips, jerking down in the same direction to throw him off balance. She tried to get up but the pain kept her grounded. Bucky recovered faster. He clenched her shirt in his fists and dragged her across the floor, slamming her body into the mirrored wall. 

Steve grabbed his shield and took the stairs two at a time; his apartment was closest to the gym. 

“Stay here,” Tony said. “I’ll check it out.” He headed to the lab to suit up. 

Nick met Phil and Clint on the steps. 

The glass cracked around Natasha. Bucky switched his grip to her throat, pulling her head forward to crash it into the mirror again. She hooked her leg around his knee and tripped him, both of them tumbling to the floor.

“Whore!” Bucky grabbed her by the shoulders, driving his knee into her stomach and shoving her towards the ground. He sprawled on top of her as the edge of Steve’s shield hit the back of his head, stunning him. Bucky wrapped his arms around Natasha and rolled onto his back, pulling her up between himself and Steve. He pressed a shard of the mirror to her throat. 

Natasha took control of his hand, twisting it away from her, the sharp edge scraping across her jaw as she broke free from his grasp. He struggled to regain control and as he threw her towards the wall again, Steve threw his shield. It hit Bucky across the temple this time and both he and Natasha collapsed. 

Steve seized Bucky, dragging him away. Bucky’s eyes opened and without hesitation, Steve head-butted him, knocking him out. 

“Nat!” Clint shouted. 

“Get the medical team,” Nick ordered. 

“On it!” Tony replied. 

Steve took advantage of the chaos to sling his unconscious friend over his shoulders and slip out of the gym. He checked Bucky’s pulse as he loaded him into the cryogenic chamber. There was a hiss as the chamber sealed and began to cool. Steve leaned his forehead against the glass. 

***

Phil gently pulled Nick back. “Let the doctor get to her,” he said softly. Her hand slipped out of Nick’s grasp. “Clint, give them some room,” Phil called out. Clint came and stood by Phil. Nick looked from the two of them to the swarm of doctors and nurses surrounding Natasha. He retreated to the stairwell. 

“Where’s Barnes?” Nick growled.

“The laboratory,” Jarvis stated. Nick climbed the stairs slowly, pistol in hand.

***

“Okay, on three.” The doctor positioned himself alongside Natasha. “One. Two. Three.” She was lifted gently onto a stretcher. “Good, let’s get her to the infirmary.”

***

Steve’s back was to the door. The shield sagged in his grip. 

“Step aside, Captain.”

Steve looked over his shoulder and tightened his grip on the shield as he turned to face Nick. “No.”

***

Phil looked around as Natasha disappeared into the elevator with the medical team. He frowned and got into the second elevator.

***

Nick raised his pistol. “One.”

“I won’t let you kill him, no matter what he’s done,” Steve said.

Neither of them paid any mind to the ding of the elevator arriving.

“Two.” 

Steve drew himself up as tall as he could, spreading his arms slightly to offer the chamber the most possible coverage. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

Phil put his hand on Nick’s arm, pressing down enough to throw off the older man’s aim. “You’re needed in the infirmary.” 

Nick cocked the pistol. 

“Nick, she’s asking for you.” Phil pushed down harder, stepping in front of Nick and meeting his gaze. Nick glanced from Phil to Steve.

“This isn’t over.” He turned and walked to the elevator. 

Phil sighed in relief.

Steve stayed in position until Nick was gone, then his shoulders sank. 

“Thanks,” he said weakly. 

“Don’t mention it,” Phil replied. “Ever.”

***


	32. Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets help, Nick is nesting, Natasha makes peace, a three pronged attack begins and Pepper steps up. This is getting quite long quite fast!

Phil started to leave.

“Phil?” Steve said.

He turned back. 

“Natasha had mentioned a while ago that there might be someone working for SHIELD who could help him.” 

“Now you want help?” Phil said.

“I can’t give up on him, I won’t apologize for that. I’m sorry Natasha’s hurt-“

“Hurt? You have no idea how badly she’s hurt.” Phil’s voice rose. “If she loses the baby, if – God forbid – she doesn’t pull through, there is no force in heaven or hell that will protect her killer.” He glared at the cryo chamber. 

“I didn’t think he was dangerous!” Steve exclaimed. 

“So this is the first time that he’s gone off the deep end? He’s never been violent towards you?”

Steve looked at the floor. “Is there someone who can help or not?”

“I’m going down the infirmary,” Phil said. “If Natasha and the baby are both okay, I’ll start making some phone calls.”

“And if they aren’t?”

“Then I’ll take you out for breakfast in the morning. Bucky won’t be here when we get back.” Phil’s expression was stern. He heard Steve sniffle as he walked to the elevator, but he kept going. 

***

“Nick?” One of the nurses stepped out into the waiting area. “She’s stable, come on back.” Nick followed her into a room. Dr. Jacobs was waiting at Natasha’s bedside. 

“Instructions, I think you both need to hear them,” the doctor began. “The word of the day is bedrest. That means in bed, lying down, as much as possible. You can sit up to eat. If you get a wheelchair and have someone else push it, you can use it to get to the bathroom. Otherwise, you will need a bedpan. You will purchase and use a shower stool; you are not to stand in the shower. You are not to stand while brushing your teeth. You are not to lift anything heavier than a glass of milk. You are not approved to do any exercise of any kind. You are on complete and total pelvic rest. That means absolutely no vaginal penetration of any kind and no orgasms. Do you have any questions?”

“How long?” 

“Until you’re ready to go into labor and have this baby.”

Natasha groaned. “I’m not even halfway yet.” 

“I want to show you something,” Dr. Jacobs said. He turned to an ultrasound machine and prepped the wand. He took a few moments moving it over Natasha’s belly before rotating the screen so Nick and Natasha could see. “That’s the placenta.” He pointed. “The placenta is what provides your baby with nutrients and oxygen.”

“I know what a placenta does.”

“That dark spot,” he continued. “Is where it has slightly detached from the uterine wall, this is called placental abruption. It’s small but you’re going to stay here, where you can be monitored around the clock, for a few days. If it doesn’t worsen and as long as you follow directions, you should be able to return to your apartment for the remainder of your pregnancy.” 

Nick squeezed Natasha’s hand. “Is she okay?”

“Mild concussion, we’ll monitor that as well. Want to have a peek at the baby while we’re here?” 

Natasha nodded mutely. Dr. Jacobs moved the wand. 

“There’s a heartbeat. There’s a head. Did you want to know the sex?” 

“Do you see something?” Natasha asked, perking up a bit. “Yes, if we can.” 

“That’s the umbilical cord. That’s a leg, that’s a leg, that’s a penis.”

“It’s a boy,” Nick said.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor confirmed. “And he moved.”

“Is he sucking his thumb?” Natasha asked. 

“Yep. You should be able to start feeling his movements in the next few weeks. In fact, you may be feeling it now but it’s so weak that you aren’t sure what it is.” He handed her a towel to wipe the gel off her skin and began putting away the ultrasound equipment. “He’s a tough little guy, that’s for sure.” 

***

Eighteen weeks, one day

Steve was sitting on the floor of the lab with his back against the door of the cryochamber and a dog-eared paperback in his lap. He set the book aside and stood slowly when Phil walked in, accompanied by a petite and severe looking woman in a navy suit. 

“I’m Dr. Gray.” 

“Steve Rogers.”

She had a firm handshake that reminded him of Peggy. “This must be Mr. Barnes.” Dr. Gray pulled over a chair from one of the work benches and laid a pair of handcuffs on the seat. “Thaw him out and secure him here please.”

“You want him shackled to a chair?” Steve glanced at Phil to see if he would intervene.

“Director Coulson has informed me that Mr. Barnes may be a danger to himself or others.” 

Steve hit the buttons to start the defrost process. Tony had sped it up a bit at least. “Can you help him?”

“That remains to be seen.” 

Phil ushered Steve out once Bucky was seated and bound. 

“You trust that woman?” Steve asked. 

“If she can’t help him, he’s beyond help.” Phil patted Steve on the shoulder. “I know she seems cold, but she’s very good at what she does.” 

They waited in the hall. Dr. Gray emerged twenty minutes later. 

“I think I can help him,” she stated. “He’s very responsive. I’ll return tomorrow afternoon at two and every day thereafter. Please have him ready in the chair when I arrive.”

***  
Eighteen weeks, five days

Pepper smiled at Nick as he opened the door. “I brought Nat some reading material.”

“Are those bridal magazines?” 

***  
Nineteen weeks, two days

“You have to get him out of here, he’s making me crazy,” Natasha pleaded desperately. 

“I guess I could take him to lunch tomorrow,” Phil offered.

“Take him for Chinese food. In China.” 

“I’m leaving Clint here to keep you out of trouble.”

“Clint hasn’t cleaned the bathroom four times in three days,” Natasha said. “Clint doesn’t vacuum during Glee. Or put my pajamas in the laundry while I’m showering.” Phil’s brow furrowed. “I was going to put them back on,” Natasha explained. “They weren’t dirty and they’re comfy.”

“Note to self, get Nat pajamas for Christmas,” Phil remarked. 

***

Nineteen weeks, three days

Dr. Gray had come, as promised, ever day at two. Steve hadn’t been prepared for her to show up over the weekend, but she had. She spent three hours a day with Bucky and he had no idea what happened during that time. He was reading the news aloud when Clint walked into the lab, pushing Natasha in a wheelchair. 

Steve winced and put down the newspaper, reaching for his shield.

“You won’t need that,” Clint said.

“Can he hear you?” Natasha asked.

“Dr. Gray says so. Says I should talk to him as much as I can.” Steve picked the shield up anyway as he stood up. 

“Could I talk to him?”

“What happened was more my fault than his,” Steve said. “I didn’t know what he was capable of. I didn’t understand, even after you tried to warn me, how dangerous…” He shook his head. “Dr. Gray says he’s making improvement. He can change, Natasha, I know he can get better. Please give him that chance. Please, don’t kill him.”

“I just want to talk.” She tried not to roll her eyes. 

“We’ll be right across the room, we won’t even leave,” Clint said encouragingly. “We’ll just hang out over there, out of earshot.” Reluctantly, Steve followed him to the far side of the lab. Clint put his back to Natasha and the cryochamber so that Steve could watch the proceedings over his shoulder.

“Leaving the Red Room was hard.” Natasha kept her voice low. “The deprogramming and the recovery, it’s a lifelong work in progress and it’s awful. I think I must’ve hated Dr. Gray more than I ever hated anyone. But the alternative…” Natasha shuddered. “Yasha, the alternative is to remain the monster of their creating. It’s unfathomable horror after unfathomable horror. Wave after wave of red crashing over you. Death would be a mercy.” She paused to regain her composure, staring up at his frozen face behind the glass. “There was a time when I thought you could do no wrong. I know better now. But I still care for you enough to be merciful.”

Bucky didn’t move. Even his eyes were still and closed, crystals of ice clinging to his lashes. Natasha called for Clint. 

“Better get you back in bed before Nick and Phil come back,” Clint said.

Natasha looked at Steve. “Thank you for letting me talk to him.” 

“If he keeps making progress, maybe he can start spending more time out of the chamber,” Steve said. 

“Are you familiar with the fable of the scorpion and the frog?”

Steve frowned. “No.”

“Maybe you should be.”

***  
Twenty weeks, one day

“We’ll be back tomorrow night, but late. Don’t wait up,” Nick said. 

“I’ll be fine,” Natasha replied. “I just wish I could go.”

He kissed her on the forehead distractedly. “Bruce, Pepper and Tony will all be here, they’re supposed to take turns looking after you.”

“I hate how helpless I am right now.” 

“It won’t be forever,” he reminded her. Nick touched her stomach lightly. “You’re halfway now.” 

“More than, probably, Dr. Jacobs doesn’t think I’ll go to forty weeks.” She put her hand over his. “Be careful. These people are dangerous. Just make sure you come home.”

“I’ve got Clint and Phil backing me up.”

“I know. Bring them home too.”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“I know how you – all three of you, actually – get when you’re on a mission. I’d rather hear that Petrovich escaped than have to bury you.”

“You aren’t raising our son without a father,” Nick promised. “Or without his two favorite uncles.” 

Natasha’s expression eased but there was still concern in her eyes. “Damn right I’m not.” 

***

“Suit up.”

Steve looked at Bruce blankly. 

“Suit up,” he repeated. “We need you.” 

Steve pulled himself to his feet. “What’s going on?”

“A bomb went off at a Stark Industries location in Illinois. Tony’s already on his way, we’re supposed to take the jet and meet him there.”

Steve hesitated. “What about?” he looked at the cryochamber. 

“He’s not going anywhere. There are reports that the survivors are being taken hostage by the bombers. You’re going to be more use than I am, do you want me to stay with him?”

Steve shook his head and grimaced. “Sounds like Tony’ll need all the help he can get. I’ll get changed.” 

“I’ve got to let Pepper know.”

***

“Girls’ night,” Pepper proclaimed. “Tony, Bruce and Steve got called up to avenge something.” She tried not to sound worried. “So, I’m thinking movie marathon, virgin daiquiris and wedding planning.” 

“I haven’t had a girls’ night since… ever,” Natasha said. 

They were halfway through the first movie when the room went dark. “Jarvis?” Pepper called out. 

It was silent. There was no polite voice responding. There was also no hum of the HVAC system, no buzz of electricity. The tower was completely silent. 

“This shouldn’t happen.” Pepper’s voice wavered. “We’re not connected to anything, even if the city loses power, we don’t.”

Natasha turned on the flashlight on her phone and shone it towards the closet. “I need you to get the lockbox off the top shelf.”

“There must be something wrong with the arc reactor.” Pepper followed Natasha’s example, using her phone for light as she retrieved the briefcase sized lockbox. “The backup should kick on any minute now.” She knew she had a tendency to talk excessively when she was nervous and she was trying to curb it. 

Natasha pressed her thumb to the box’s biometric scanner and the latches popped open. 

“This shit never happens when Tony’s home. Why hasn’t the backup generator come online? What are you doing?” 

Natasha checked her magazine and loaded the glock, chambering a round. She adjusted the phone in her lap for better light and started loading a second pistol. The lights came back on. 

Pepper released a shaky sigh. “Jarvis? Status report?”

“All systems functional. Power levels normal.”

“What happened?”

“A temporary loss of power occurred.”

“We noticed,” Natasha muttered. “Cause?”

“Unknown.”

“Is the tower secure?” Natasha asked.

“All systems functional.”

“You said that already.”

There was no response.

“Jarvis?” Pepper prompted.

Natasha finished loading the second gun. 

“It’s back on,” Pepper said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Something is wrong.”

“All systems functional.”

Pepper frowned. “Jarvis, what’s my favorite color?”

“A temporary loss of power occurred.”

Pepper and Natasha exchanged a glance. Natasha held out one of the guns. “Take it.”

“Unknown. Systems. Loss. Functional.”

Pepper’s hand shook as she took the weapon. 

“Go up to the lab,” Natasha instructed in a low, calm voice. “Start the defrost sequence on the chamber, then get out of there. Find somewhere to hide. If you see anyone, shoot them.”

“You’re stuck in bed,” Pepper said. “Who would I see?”

“Call Tony and Phil, tell them what’s going on.”

“What’s going on?”

“Unknown,” Jarvis stated. 

Natasha cocked her eyebrow. She couldn’t argue with that. “Be careful.”

Pepper crept up the stairs as quickly as possible and entered the lab, looking around. The cryochamber was untouched, Bucky motionless within. She called Tony.

“Little busy, sweetie.”

“Two things: we had a power outage, Jarvis is acting strange and I think there might be a security breach at the tower,” Pepper said quietly. 

Tony fired a missile at one of the trucks outside the building. “That was three things.”

“No, that was the first thing. The second thing is I need to know how to defrost the cryochamber.”

“Is the power back on?” Tony asked, dodging bullets.

“Yes.”

“Jarvis acting strange how?”

“He keeps using the same four phrases over and over.”

Tony frowned. “Fifty-two to tower.”

“Tower is unresponsive.” Tony was grateful that the armor’s AI wasn’t directly connected to the tower. 

“Load the backup.”

“Failed,” Jarvis replied. “It appears the communication systems are off-line, backup would need to be loaded manually.”

“Get out of the tower,” Tony said firmly. 

“The cryochamber?”

“There are two blue buttons on the panel on the left. Push the top one twice, then push both together, then get the hell out of dodge.”

“I can’t leave Natasha here alone.”

“Pepper, if there’s a security breach –“ Tony took a deep breath. “We’re too far away and Phil and the others are even further. No one can get there until it’s too late. Pepper, run. Please.”

“Pepper hide,” she muttered. “Pepper run.” Her gaze fell on the workbench. “Is the mark fifty-three operational?”

“No, Pep. The repulsors in the boots need to be calibrated, it’s impossible to steer in flight and the targeting – “

“Is it bulletproof?”

“Yes, but…”

“Are the weapons’ systems live?”

“Pepper, do not get in that armor.” An explosion below threw him off his flight path. 

Pepper hung up the phone. “Bucky, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I think we’re in danger. I’d really appreciate it if you could maybe kill some bad guys and not kill me or Natasha.” She pushed the top blue button twice and pushed both blue buttons simultaneously. Pepper turned to Dum-E. “Help me suit up.”


	33. Thirty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tower is attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comparatively short chapter. I hate writing combat but it didn't feel right to completely gloss over it.

Soldiers flooded into the tower as soon as the lights went out. Two people were already hard at work in the utility room, one deactivating the communication and security systems and the other delaying the activation of the backup power source. A third soldier joined them. 

“How much time?”

“They’re gonna start getting suspicious if it stays off much longer,” the woman working on the generator replied. 

 

“Let’s hope this works.” The newcomer plugged in a flash drive. 

“We want the power back on anyway, all the residential floors are at the top and that’s a fuckton of stairs.”

***

Natasha eased herself off the bed and opened the bottom drawer of Nick’s dresser. She tossed the clothes aside and pulled out the false bottom. He’d gone to capture Petrovich, but, as predicted, he’d left his bulletproof vest at home. Natasha positioned herself where she could use the bed and the nightstand for cover. She heard the ding of the elevator and settled for laying the vest over her torso.

***

“Coulson.”

“Potts,” Pepper replied. “There’s been a power outage. Tower communication systems are offline, Jarvis needs a hard reset, and I’m pretty sure we have a security breach.”

“You sound odd, am I on speaker phone?”

“You’re on helmet phone. I’m prepared to defend myself and Natasha but you should probably get back here as soon as possible.”

“I’ll send over a SHIELD team. Twenty minutes, twenty-five if traffic is bad,” Phil promised.

“I can handle things for twenty minutes.”

“I know you can.”

“You’re the only one.” There was a soft click as the cryochamber unlatched and the door swung open. “I gotta go,” Pepper said.

The Winter Soldier stared at her. He tilted his head quickly to the right and his neck cracked audibly. “Where is the enemy?”

“They’re coming.”

***  
“We don’t want to hurt you. Give yourself up. Come quietly,” a voice shouted. The bedroom door opened slowly. A soldier in full body armor and a red mask peeked in. Natasha aimed for the neck, below the helmet, above the vest. She was limited on ammo, but one well-placed bullet was all it took.

“We don’t want to hurt you and we don’t want to hurt your baby.”

“Go to hell,” Natasha shouted back. The armor was reminiscent of Hydra’s soldiers but the mask – Natasha had worn one herself in her days with the Red Room.

***

Pepper had set Natasha’s pistol on the workbench while getting into the armor. Bucky’s hand hovered over it. “May I?” he asked.

The ding of the elevator sounded.

“Yes.”

“This is Natasha’s,” Bucky observed. Pepper fired the repulsors, knocking back a pair of soldiers.

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Downstairs. She’s going to need help.”

Bucky fired two shots at the incoming soldiers without looking.

“There are civilians too.” Pepper felt like she was shouting to be heard through the helmet. “The medical team stays here.”

“Gather the civilians and keep them safe,” Bucky said. 

***  
There were ten bullets in a clip. Natasha didn’t know how many mercenaries could fit in the elevator, but she was pretty sure it was more than ten. 

***

Click. Bucky dropped the empty glock and took on the nearest soldier with his fists, wresting a weapon from his grasp. 

***

It was possible to fit thirteen men in the elevator, as Natasha discovered when the ammo ran out and three soldiers rushed her. 

***

Pepper crowded the elevator, holding the men at bay and drawing their fire while Bucky made it to the stairs. He met another group as they all arrived at Natasha’s floor of the tower. Their exchange of bullets spilled into the hallway where the door to her apartment stood open. It didn’t look like she needed help as Natasha hyperextended a man’s elbow. Bucky handed her a fresh weapon. More soldiers flooded in from the stairs. 

“You hit?” Bucky asked. Natasha had one arm pressed low against her abdomen. 

“No.” Her voice was pained. 

The mercenaries kept coming, wave after wave. Bucky and Natasha fought with fists and feet when their guns ran out and took weapons from the enemy whenever possible. 

Pepper made it to the basement, fighting her way past hordes of soldiers, and got Jarvis back online. The enemy suddenly found that doors were electronically locked against them and the elevators refused to move. Six SHIELD vans pulled up outside, and agents began filling the lobby.

Natasha crumpled to the floor.

“You okay?”

“It hurts.” 

Bucky kept fighting. Red bloomed across his chest and he staggered back, leaning against the wall, his arm sagging as he continued to return fire. 

“Is it,” he gasped, “the baby?” He slid down the wall, leaving a smear of crimson. 

“I think so.” Natasha groaned, clutching her midsection. 

“Is it mine?” 

A soldier got past him and grabbed Natasha by the arm, pulling her up. She kneed him in the gut and twisted his head with both hands. They both collapsed. 

“I think so,” Natasha admitted. Something warm and wet was spreading across her legs as she doubled over in pain. Blood dribbled out of Bucky’s gaping mouth and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or not.

***

“Where’s Natasha?” Nick demanded.

“Infirmary.” Pepper’s hair was in disarray, she was still in the suit, sans helmet. “I tried.” She stepped away from her conversation with the SHIELD team lead to accompany Phil, Clint and Nick upstairs.

“Any idea how they accessed the tower?” Phil inquired. 

“Inside job. Dr. Jacobs was working with them. He’s – I put him in the cryochamber. I’m not sure if that might kill him,” Pepper replied. 

“If he’s in the cryochamber, where’s Bucky?” Clint asked. 

“Infirmary.” Pepper’s eyes were downcast. “He was helping us.” She sighed. “Tony, Bruce and Steve are about an hour out. No injuries.”

Nurses were bustling in and out of two rooms in the infirmary. One approached the waiting area. “Nick? I think you’d better come with me.”

***


	34. Thirty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack. A chapter set in the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: stillbirth, major character death, feels. This is the hardest fictional thing I've ever written and I had tears streaming down my face the ENTIRE time. For added feels, listen to John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy" while reading. Grab the tissues.

“We can’t stop the labor,” the nurse explained quietly. Natasha was on a stretcher, surrounded by machines and monitors and nurses. 

“It’s too soon,” Nick said. “We’re barely twenty weeks.” 

“I… I know. I’m sorry. Get in there and hold her hand.”

Natasha’s face was streaked with blood and sweat. “The doctor didn’t say no combat,” she joked weakly. 

“Clearly this is all his fault.” He squeezed her hand gently. Her eyes fluttered. “Just stay with me.” The room was full of chaos, everyone reaching over each other. A few nurses broke off from the cluster and worked silently on the other side of the room.

“Is there an OR?” the doctor asked.

“End of the hall.”

“She’s hemorrhaging, I’m going to have to open her up to find out why. Get ready to move her.”

A nurse gently led Nick back from the bed. “You’ll have to wait here.” 

Steve, Bruce, and Tony joined Pepper, Clint, and Phil in the waiting area. All six of them looked ragged. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked.

“They took Bucky back with multiple gunshot wounds,” Pepper answered. “I think Natasha’s either dying or having the baby. Maybe both.” Her voice cracked. “Everything went so wrong so fast. I tried to help but it wasn’t enough.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “It wasn’t enough.” Tony hugged her awkwardly as they were both still in armor. 

“There’s nothing more you can do right now. Let’s get out of these suits.”

“I want to stay until I know they’re okay. I want to see this through.” 

A gurney surrounded by nurses rushed into the operating suite. Across the hall, the medical staff was beginning to filter out of Trauma Two.

One of the nurses lingered in Trauma One. She approached Nick, who was standing shell-shocked in the now deserted room. The nurse held a wadded blanket in her hands. “Do you want to hold him?” she asked. “It was a boy.” 

A furrow formed between Nick’s brows as he took a closer look at the blanket. It wasn’t wadded. It was carefully wrapped and tucked around the tiniest newborn he’d ever seen. He nodded and held out his hands. The nurse laid the boy carefully in Nick’s grasp.

“You can hold him as long as you want,” she said, blinking back tears. “When Natasha gets out of surgery, as soon as she feels up to it, you two can give him a bath, you can take pictures. You can hold him as long as you want. I’m so sorry.” The nurse sniffled. “I have to go help. You’ll be okay alone?” 

Nick nodded again.

Dr. Stadtler emerged from Trauma Two and approached the waiting area. Everyone’s heads came up. He sighed. “Have a seat, Captain Rogers.” 

Steve frowned uncertainly and sank into a chair. “Sergeant Barnes was brought to the infirmary with multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. One bullet pierced his aorta and, despite our best efforts, we were unable to repair the damage.”

“No,” Steve said plaintively. 

“I’m very sorry.”

“No,” he repeated louder. 

“But he’s gone.”

The others rushed to embrace Steve. “No,” he sobbed. 

The baby’s skin was so thin, Nick could see through it. His eyes were fused shut, never to open. Nick loosened the blanket and found a hand. Tiny fingers were clenched in tiny fists, five on each hand. Ten total. He had Natasha’s petite nose and her full lips. He cradled the tiny body against his chest. 

“Can I see him?” Steve sobbed. 

“Of course,” the doctor replied.

“I’ll come with you,” Bruce offered.

“I’d rather go alone.” 

Pepper and Tony changed out of the suits. Tony ordered pizzas that no one ate. Dr. Pfluvgel came out of the OR. 

“Please not Natasha too,” Pepper whimpered. 

“She’s alive.” The relief from the group was palable. “She went into labor, we delivered the baby, stillborn, and I had to remove her uterus to stop her from bleeding to death. But she’s alive and stable so she’s likely to remain that way. You can see her once she’s rested and feeling up to having visitors. In the meantime, you all look like you need showers and a solid eight hours of sleep.” 

The stretcher was rolled out of the OR and the orderlies followed Dr. Pfluvgel into Trauma One. Pepper went into Trauma Two to tell Steve the news and he trailed her out into the waiting area. Tony pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry about Bucky.”

“Me too,” Steve replied. 

Pepper, Tony and Bruce headed up to the penthouse. Steve went home alone. Finally, Clint stood. 

“You coming?”

“I’m going to sit a while longer,” Phil said. 

Nick waited patiently while the nurses got Natasha settled. The same nurse who had brought him back the first time and who had handed him the baby set out a small tub and some towels near the sink without a word. 

“How are you?” Nick asked.

“I’m pretty doped up. I don’t feel anything right now. Is- is that the baby?”

Nick nodded. “You want to hold him?”

Natasha’s eyes welled with tears. “No.”

“Do you want to see him?” Nick offered. “He’s beautiful.” 

Natasha hesitated. “Isn’t he…underdeveloped?”

“He’s perfect, just small.” 

“Let me hold him.” The tears fell as soon as he was in her arms. She carefully wiped one off his forehead. “He’s so small.” 

“The nurse said we can hold him as long and as much as we want, we can bathe him, we can…rock him. We didn’t even decide on a name yet.”

“Joseph,” Natasha said. “His name is Joseph Clinton Fury.” 

“That’s a good name.”

The medical staff was changing shifts. In the lobby, a nurse paused with her purse on her shoulder. “Still here, Mr. Coulson?”

“Just waiting,” he replied. 

“I just finished my shift, but I could bring you a cup of coffee if you want?”

“No… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” 

“Grace.”

“No, thank you, Grace.” 

Phil didn’t fidget while he waited. He didn’t check his phone or rifle though the magazines on the table. He just waited. The sun began to rise. Nick slipped out of Trauma One silently. Phil stood. He followed Nick to the far end of the floor, near the elevators, where a window gave them a view of dawn breaking over New York’s skyline. Nick drew in a trembling breath.

“My son.” He choked out the words as his voice broke. Sobs racked through his body. Phil put his arms around Nick. No other words were spoken.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do something slightly unorthodox and add a few words here about myself. I had a miscarriage. And those four words are pretty much the hardest non-fiction thing I'll ever write. I also have two living sons and if I've glossed over Natasha's feelings and reactions here, it is because it's too painful for me to contemplate. But don't fear, this isn't the last chapter. I can sum up everything I know about life in three words, it goes on.


	35. Thirty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly lots of dialogue. An interrogation, a conversation, an offer of friendship and a little romance.

“I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.” Phil smiled and held out a steaming cup of coffee.

“Y-yes,” Dr. Jacobs said through chattering teeth. “J-just a m-mist-understanding.”

“Good. Cream or sugar?”

Dr. Jacobs shook his head and hesitantly took the mug. 

“Why don’t we start with how your allies with the Red Room accessed the tower?” 

There was panic in the doctor’s eyes. “I didn’t, they aren’t…” An arrow buried itself nearly to the fletching in the wall at his left shoulder. 

“Glad you could join us,” Phil said without turning around. “Dr. Jacobs, let’s start over. How did they gain access to the tower?”

***

“We were never close to Petrovich.”

“How’s that?” Nick asked.

“I talked to Dr. Jacobs, I talked to some of the people SHIELD was able to capture from the assault on the tower. Petrovich wasn’t in Chechnya; it was a ploy to get us away from the tower.” Phil frowned. 

“That’s the bad news,” Clint added. 

“Is there good news?”

“We’re about 90% sure he’s in Orleans,” Phil answered.

“What’s he doing in France?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but Clint had an answer anyway.

“According to his men, laying low.” 

“If we want him, we need to move on this now,” Phil said. 

“Then move,” Nick replied.

“You coming?” Clint asked.

“Natasha’s recovering from abdominal surgery and we have to pick up Joseph’s ashes. Give Petrovich my best.”

“I want to bring him in alive,” Phil stated. “I have questions that need answers.” 

“He’s pretty dangerous,” Clint said. “So, we were thinking we might make the cryochamber available.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth turned up. “What will you do with Dr. Jacobs?” 

“There are holding cells at SHIELD, although, if he makes any trouble during the transfer process, well…” Phil trailed off. 

Nick’s smile broadened. “When were you planning on moving him?”

“Like I said, we have to move on Petrovich before he gets the heads up that we’re coming. I’d like to get Dr. Jacobs out of the way immediately.”

“I was just thinking of taping up my hands and heading down to the gym for a little time with the training dummy.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a little pent-up aggression to work out,” Clint said, nodding agreeably.

***

“Please, I’ve told you everything I know,” Dr. Jacobs stammered, shivering.

“Relax, we’re relocating you. There’s a car downstairs waiting to take you to a SHIELD facility.” Phil put a blanket over the doctor’s shoulders and guided him to the elevator. 

When the elevator opened, Nick was standing inside, his stance relaxed, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. “Good evening, Doc. Going down?” 

Dr. Jacobs began to flail and struggle and Phil and Clint dragged him into the elevator. The doors closed.

***

Steve opened his door and frowned. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m allowed to walk, just no stairs, no heavy lifting and no combat,” Natasha answered. “Sorry to disappoint.” She was pale, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Are you planning to pick up Bucky’s ashes tomorrow?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Nick and I are going to the mortuary too, you can ride with us.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I figured I’d take the bus.”

Natasha gave him a ‘really, now’ look. “Meet us in the lobby at twelve, we’ll get lunch first.” It was clear from her tone and expression that there was only one acceptable response. 

“I’ll see you then.” 

Natasha’s sharp nod of approval told Steve he’d chosen wisely. 

***

Four SHIELD agents in the lobby snapped to when the elevator doors opened. “Sir,” one of them said crisply. 

“Gentlemen.” Nick nodded to the men as he passed. He unwrapped his hands, walking through the lobby, and dropped the wad of tape in the trash can by the front door.

“Is that guy even alive?” Nick overheard one agent ask. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his wallet. He wanted to grab a few groceries and maybe something nice for Natasha while he was out.

***

Natasha was napping when Nick returned. He put away the groceries and scrounged through the cabinets for a vase. He found one and filled it with pink, red and white tulips. He took the blanket from the back of the couch and covered Natasha carefully.

She stirred a little, just enough to pull the blanket snug around her shoulders and stick one bare foot out into the air. Nick shook his head, smiling fondly, and flipped the corner of the blanket back over her foot. 

When Natasha awoke an hour later it was to the aroma of garlic. She stretched and rolled onto her back. “Mmm. What smells good?”

“Dinner,” Nick replied unhelpfully.

“What’s dinner?”

“The main meal of the day, typically eaten at midday or in the evening and sometimes used as a synonym for supper.”

Natasha tossed the blanket aside and stood up. “Very helpful, Leslie Nielsen. What’s for dinner?”

“Meatball subs.”

“Ooh.” Natasha smiled and padded towards the kitchen. “Homemade meatballs?”

“Naturally.”

She stopped when she saw the tulips. “Are these for me or do you have a secret admirer?”

“Those are for you,” Nick replied. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“I feel guilty about not being here when the tower was attacked and I’m compensating.” He gave her a sheepish look. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Natasha said. “You couldn’t have changed anything, except maybe getting yourself killed.”

“We’ll never know.”

“I know,” Natasha insisted. “Because I know you would’ve done anything to protect me and the baby, including sacrificing yourself.”

“I didn’t know I could miss someone I’d never met.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around his waist. “My chest hurts every time I breathe. I think my heart might actually be broken. I’ve never cried this much in my whole life, cumulatively.” 

Nick frowned. “How long have you been having chest pains?”

“Couple days.”

“We’re going to the infirmary after dinner.” 

Natasha knew from his tone it was pointless to argue.


	36. Thirty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral and a revelation, an interrogation and an execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, language

“It’s an inflammation of the cartilage between the sternum and the ribs. Are you familiar with abdominal breathing?”

Natasha nodded. “Hurts the incision.” 

Dr. Pfluvgel frowned. “I guess you can decide which is worse. Just take it easy, keep on top of your ibuprofen.”

***

“I hate ties.” Clint unknotted it and began again. 

“So skip it,” Phil said.

“It’s a funeral; I think I have to wear it. Does this look right?”

Phil gently took Clint by the shoulders and turned him face to face. “Let me.” He deftly knotted the silk and smoothed Clint’s lapels. “There.”

Steve looked confused when he got into the elevator. “I thought you two were going after Petrovich?”

“We were,” Phil said. “Then I remembered that I have people I can send after him. But this, this is something I have to do myself. I’m needed here.”

“Thank you.” 

Clint hugged Steve impulsively. “That’s what friends are for.”

***

“I met Bucky Barnes the first day of kindergarten. He was funny, you know, but he was nice to everybody. He made jokes but he didn’t make anyone the butt of them.” As Steve spoke it became increasingly obvious to everyone that the man he was describing bore little resemblance to the man who had lived at the tower. Warm, Steve said, charming and kind.

Tony leaned over to Bruce. “I feel like I’m at the wrong funeral.”

“Don’t speak ill of the dead.” 

“Well that’s a stupid rule,” Tony muttered. 

Pepper put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. She didn’t look away from the front of the church, but she kept applying pressure. 

“Ah, sorry.” He sat up very straight with his hands in his lap. Pepper patted his leg and stopped squeezing. 

Steve could have told stories all day of Bucky’s kindness, his courage, his wit and charm and grace. He could have talked all through the night and still had more to say. He limited himself to a few dated anecdotes about Bucky protecting him from bullies and bringing him food after his mom died. 

There wasn’t much of a crowd in addition the regular Avengers family. Some of the medical staff had come along with a handful of SHIELD agents. Happy, Rhodey, Darcy and Sam helped round out the guest list. After the service, everyone gathered at Avengers Tower for lunch. People ate and talked and offered Steve awkward condolences; Dr. Grey was the only one Steve thought might have known Bucky well enough to see his death as a tragedy and she was near robotic in her delivery of trite platitudes. 

“Sorry about your friend,” Darcy said.

“Thanks.”

“You know, Jane and Thor wanted to be here but they actually have no idea that this is going on because they’re on Asgard and don’t have cell phone service.” Darcy sounded a little bitter. 

“Well, thank you for coming.” 

The guests gradually diminished until only the people that Steve had come to think of as his family remained. “Where’s Phil?”

“He stepped out to take a phone call,” Clint answered. “Very important or he wouldn’t have.”

Steve wandered into the kitchen, where Pepper was packing away leftover food.

“Can I help?” he offered. 

“No, you just relax. I have everything under control.”

“I’d rather help.” Steve looked at her forelornly. 

“There are more containers in the cupboard above the fridge. Start filling them.”

“They’ve got him!” Phil announced as he entered the living room. 

“Petrovich?” Bruce said.

“And the woman he was traveling with, they’re still working on ID’ing her.”

“Red Room?” Nick asked. 

“I’d bet money on it,” Phil replied. “They’re taking them to bunker H; they should be there in about four hours.” 

Natasha stood.

“Where are you going?” Nick asked.

“To change my shoes. If you think you’re going to that bunker without me, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Holy shit.” Phil was staring at his phone. “It’s Madeleine.”

“What’s Madeleine?” Nick demanded.

“The woman we brought in with Petrovich. There’s no indication she’s a hostage and every indication that they’re working together, possibly even that she’s been giving him the orders. Madeleine’s Red Room.”

***

“Is that even possible?” Clint asked as he started the car. “I mean, haven’t you known her for like forty years?”

“Apparently not that well.” 

“It’s possible,” Natasha said. “Some operatives were given long term undercover assignments as soon as they graduated, often infiltrating intelligence organizations.”

There was a long moment of silence in the car.

“Like SHIELD,” Natasha finally added. 

“We trust you,” Phil said quickly. 

“SHIELD monitored you 24 hours a day for three years and still does intermittent checks on all your communication,” Nick said. “It’s standard.”

“That’s less than reassuring considering that you didn’t know about Hydra,” Natasha replied. 

***

Vladislov Petrovich had the cold, lifeless eyes of a ventriloquist’s dummy and a smile to match. He looked at each of them in turn. When he got to Natasha, his smile vanished and he spat at her. 

“You missed,” she observed. 

“Come closer, whore, I try again.”

“Watch your mouth,” Nick growled.

“Why did you order the attack on Avengers Tower?” Phil asked. 

“I give no order,” Petrovich replied. “I was – how you say? – under the ground.”

“You’ll be six feet under the ground when this is over,” Natasha promised. 

“Can you have her leave?” Petrovich looked at Phil imploringly. “IT gives me creepy crawly feelings to be in room with corpse.”

“Corpse? Why do you say that?” 

“No longer valuable to Red Room, and too dangerous to keep alive. They are coming, Natalia.”

“Who’s coming?” Phil kept his voice level and calm. 

“Anyone who remains loyal to Red Room. We are few. Some fifteen years ago, Red Room suffered devastating blow. Saboteur demolished main facility, killed hundreds of operatives, destroyed years’ worth of vital information. It was inside job.” He eyed Natasha. “Every one know the enemy, but she is too valuable to kill. Until now.”

“Valuable?” Natasha echoed. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Why?”

Petrovich smiled, showing entirely too many teeth. “You are like me, born for the Red Room. Did you know who your father was?”

Natasha shook her head. 

“He worked for us. Your mother was nothing, a worthless whore paid to carry a child. She tried to run, to keep you from us.”

“Who was the father?” Natasha demanded. 

“Demolition expert. He tried to help her escape. We cut off one of his fingers. Second time, Luka was slow learner.”

A crease formed between Natasha’s brow. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, breathing in slowly through her nose. 

Phil tried to get things back on track. “Who do your orders come from?” 

“My boss. Has many name, many aliases.”

“I call her Mama. You call her Madeleine, I think.”

“Did she order the attack on the tower?” Phil asked.

Petrovich shrugged. “She ordered many things. Attack on Stark, far from the tower to draw him off. Attack the tower. Bring back the whore.”

Nick drew his gun, stepped forward and struck Petrovich across the jaw with the butt of the pistol in one fluid motion. 

Petrovich slowly rolled his head back upright; his tongue snaked out to taste the blood on his lips. “Many orders,” he reiterated. “Shoot the bodyguard, attack the airport. Blow up Commander Hawley’s car.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” Phil asked.

Petrovich shrugged again. “You are going to kill me, yes? It won’t be enough. Men will keep coming. They will not stop until the…traitor is dead.”

***  
Vladislov had a predatory, sharklike quality; Madeleine seemed just the opposite, uncertain and afraid. “Nicholas!”

“This is all a misunderstanding, right?” Nick said. 

She shook her head. “No. But I want you to know, whatever lies I have told, and there have been many, what I feel for you is real. It always has been.”

“Let’s start with your real name.”

“Vasilisa Nazarova.”

“And you work for the Red Room?” 

“Yes.”

“And Vladislov Petrovich is your son?”

“Yes.” Madeleine sniffled, tears shining in her eyes. “I never wanted for you to get hurt, Nicholas. I tried to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“I told you there was nothing but heartbreak. I had thought she would be gone when you got back.”

“Because your men would have kidnapped her.” Nick clenched his jaw. 

“Yes. To bear my grandchild, heir of Petrovich, savior of the Red Room.”

“Did you send the photograph to the tower?”

“I tried to warn you,” Madeleine repeated. “The woman you love will die. It seemed like such a clear message.”

Nick paused to formulate his next question.

“So,” Madeleine said. “Now you know that I am with the Red Room. You know that the Red Room was responsible for Pamela’s death. Are you going to ask if I ordered it? If I knew that it would be her in the car instead of her brother?”

“No. Call them off.” 

“What?” Madeleine sounded genuinely confused. 

“The men you’ve sent to kill Natasha, call them off.”

“No.” Madeleine’s voice was cold and flat. 

Nick stepped back and opened the door. Natasha walked in, followed by Phil and Clint dragging Vladislov between them. 

“Once more, Maddie. Call off your dogs.”

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“This ends now,” Nick said.

Natasha drew her pistol. “Do you know what it’s like to hold your child’s dead body in your arms?”

“No,” Madeleine exclaimed. “No!”

“Call them off!” Nick bellowed. 

Natasha pulled the trigger. Between Phil and Clint, Vladislov went limp in a spray of red. 

“Call them off, and I’ll let you join him,” Natasha offered. “Refuse and we walk out, that door locks and it doesn’t open again. Ever. You two can rot together and I’ll take my chances with your men.”

Tears streamed down Madeleine’s face. “You are a monster.”

“I am what you made me.” 

“Bring me a phone.”


	37. Thirty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. A quick flipbook forward to the wedding and then beyond. Feels and fluff.

Madeleine made three phone calls, each conversation the same. She sat, quietly sobbing, when it was over. Nick drew and he and Natasha fired in unison. It felt like a long walk back to the car.

“So, do we actually think that will stop them?” Clint asked.

“No,” Phil said. “That’s why we traced the phone calls. I have teams en route now. We probably can’t get all of them, but we can significantly reduce their numbers.” 

***

On Monday, Nick put Joseph’s ashes on the windowsill in the room he’d cleared out for a nursery. He had asked Natasha what she wanted to do with them and she’d shrugged. On Thursday the door was open a crack. When he looked inside, he saw a white envelope with pink and blue alphabet blocks spelling out BABY tucked underneath the urn. He pulled the door closed all the way. Neither of them spoke of the room.

Every morning, just before dawn, Steve went for a run. He ran outside, regardless of the weather, and his run took him through the cemetery, past Bucky’s grave. Sometimes he said a few words and other times he was silent, but he always paused.

Winter began its slow melt into spring. March in New York meant buds on the trees but snow on the ground. It was early on Tuesday morning when there was a knock at Nick and Natasha’s door. 

“Can you get that?” Nick asked as he began making coffee.

Natasha opened the door with a scowl. There was no one there. She looked up the hall. She looked down the hall. A lavender rose rested on the welcome mat. The note only said “Not” but she didn’t need more than three letters to recognize Clint’s handwriting. 

There was a vase on the counter when she came back into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m making coffee. Do you want frozen waffles or scrambled eggs?”

“Eggs over easy.”

“That wasn’t an option,” Nick objected. 

“And toast. Jam, no butter.”

“You want me to cut the crusts off for you?”

“I like the crusts. What’s with the flower?”

“I didn’t send it.”

After breakfast, Natasha threw on her workout clothes to head to the gym. There was a peach colored rose sitting in the elevator. The note on this one said “One” in Pepper’s graceful script. A third rose waited in the gym, pink with a note from Phil that said “of”. Natasha ran three miles and did a few sets with the weights before heading back to her apartment. She added the two new roses to the vase and stacked the notes nearby. The rest of her morning was quiet; Nick had gone off to do something with Phil. 

Natasha went into the kitchen to make lunch. When she opened the cupboard, she was greeted by a yellow rose with burgundy edged petals and a note that said “us” in barely legible Tony scrawl. There was another knock at the door a few hours later. Natasha rushed to answer it and caught Steve ducking into the stairwell. There was a blue rose on the doorstep. The note said “has”. 

Natasha frowned and strode out to the stairs. When she opened the door, Steve was gone and there was a pale green rose. “I must be getting predictable,” she muttered. Bruce had scribbled one word onto a post-it note that clung desperately to the stem. 

“Forgotten.”

When Nick got home, Natasha was sitting on the floor in the empty room with the notes laid out in order in front of her. “It’s his due date,” she said quietly, her voice cracking. 

“I know.” Nick carefully laid another note at the end of the line. “I’ll just put this in the vase.” He gestured to the red rose in his hand. 

Natasha reached out and turned his note face up. “Joseph.”

“They’re waiting downstairs if you want to join them for dinner,” Nick said. 

Natasha let out a muffled sob. Nick knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. She turned towards him, crying into his chest. She looked up when she felt him shudder. He withdrew, wiping his cheek with his hand. 

“We should go to dinner,” Natasha said. “And we should figure out what to do with this room.”

“When you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

***

Darcy took a job at Stark Industries. Pepper and Tony got Bruce a puppy for his birthday, except what they got was a fifteen-month-old poodle mix that had gotten bigger than its previous owners anticipated. The Avengers saved the world twice. Spring turned to summer, summer to fall and fall to winter. 

“I’m still not sure about the tiara, it’s a wedding not a coronation,” Natasha griped. 

“It looks amazing and it’s keeping your veil in place,” Clint said. 

“Maybe I should ditch all the headgear.” 

“You’re gorgeous. Relax.”

Natasha’s dress transitioned from pale ballet pink at the neckline through shades of ever deepening pink and red to burgundy at the floor level. The veil was cream colored with burgundy trim. 

“Flowers,” Natasha said, holding out her hand.

“Flowers,” Clint repeated. He carefully handed over her bouquet, made up of pink, red and white roses and lilies with a single blue iris. He glanced in the mirror and adjusted his tie, making sure the red tie and vest lay smoothly. “It’s time.”

Phil was grinning broadly when Clint joined him in the hallway. 

“What are you so smiley about?” 

“I just realized about twenty minutes ago that I get to walk you down the aisle,” Phil replied. 

Clint smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re cute, you know that?”

***

Clint pulled Natasha aside between the ceremony and the reception. “Hey, I don’t want to hijack your big day here. I know you’re still…grieving, and I don’t think any child could ever take Joseph’s place. That’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m just saying I hear really good things about the adoption process.” 

With a deep breath he pulled a photograph out of his jacket pocket and held it facing her. Natasha looked at the picture, a little girl, maybe two or three years old. She looked at Clint’s excited expression.

“That…she’s your daughter?” 

Clint nodded enthusiastically. Natasha threw her arms around him. “Oh, she’s adorable. Are you going to tell everybody?”

“Well, obviously.”

“I mean now, tonight, at the reception?”

“If that’s okay with you and Nick. I don’t want to steal your thunder but I’ve known since Thursday and I might explode if I don’t start telling people.”

Natasha plucked the photo out of his grasp. “How old?”

“Three in May.”

“Name?”

“Amelia. We didn’t pick it but Phil and I both think it’s pretty.”

“When do we get to meet her?”

“A few more weeks. We have one more court date, but the biological parents’ rights have already been terminated.” 

“I’m so happy for you,” Natasha said. She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m going to ruin my makeup.” She handed him back the picture. “Come on, we can’t have you exploding.” 

***

“So I think it’s a tradition that you dance with me at weddings,” Darcy informed Steve.

“We danced once, at Clint and Phil’s wedding. I’m not sure that counts as a tradition.”

“Well, we can dance at this one. And you know Jane and Thor are next on the docket for taking an aisle-walk, so we can dance there too.” 

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Steve said.

“And I am awesomely willing to overlook that.”

***

Steve and Darcy danced. Pepper and Jane had a bit of a scuffle over the bouquet. Clint and Phil’s announcement was met with thunderous applause. Maria Hill got so drunk she tried to kiss Pepper. Pepper, intoxicated as well and disappointed at having lost the bouquet to Jane, gave Maria a black eye. 

Nick and Natasha managed to enjoy their honeymoon without anyone trying to kill either of them. Clint and Phil changed Amelia’s middle name to Josephine and her last name to Barton-Coulson.   
Amelia came to live at the tower. So did Darcy. Steve started running in the gym twice a week and outside five days a week. Then three inside and four out.

The Avengers saved the world. Thor and Jane married. Pepper lost the bouquet to Amelia. Steve and Darcy danced. Natasha asked Clint what agency they’d ended up adopting Amelia through. Life went on, as it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming along with me for the ride, I hope you enjoyed it. As I think I said before, this really wasn't what I set out to write at the beginning and I think there are a few places where I dropped threads of plot, but I hope I tied up most of the loose ends in a satisfactory manner.


End file.
